Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night
by all-uu-need-is-love
Summary: After being rescued from the island, it's obvious that the boys have each changed in their own way, but what exactly happened on the island? Their siblings yearn to find out, but the closer they are to a conclusion, the boys are developing in their own way as they try to adjust from a savage world into a civilized community. Rated M for dark and disturbing themes. Contemporary.
1. A Day in the Life

**NOTE: This story is based on the 1990 version of LOTF, but is set in modern times (2012 atm) . Yes, I was thoroughly disappointed with the depiction of LOTF in the movie, BUT the setting/time period/and military 'statute' fit this idea. I will try to incorporate as many ideas as I can from the original LOTF by William Golding. On that note, I do not own ANY of the material from LOTF, just the OCs. Keep in mind that in this version, the boys were around fifteen when they crashed on the island, more or less. Leave a review and ENJOY! : )**

HAILEE ANDREWS sat in front of her mirror admiring herself. From the way her blonde wavy hair framed her delicate features to the contrast between her stunning blue eyes and her golden skin, Hailee knew she was beautiful, and showed it.

But something under that pretty face and cute smile lurked like a dark awakening blossoming in her sixteen-year-old self. Hailee had a secret, and although she would never admit it, she knew it was quite plain.

It had been two months since Ralph, her younger brother, had been rescued. She remembered how timid her mother had been when giving her the news that he had disappeared in the first place, that the plane taking his school off to France had crashed and nobody knew of its whereabouts. Her mother had broken on the spot. She fell down and wept on Hailee's floor, crying and sobbing for her son. Hailee had sat exactly where she sat now, at her vanity table, a hair straightener in one hand and her Ipod in the other. A month later, her mother had bounded up the stairs, blonde hair flopping in a messy ponytail when she yelled at Hailee to get dressed and get in the car. Why? Hailee's mother hadn't said until they reached airport where she finally twisted around to look at both Hailee and her husband to tell them that Ralph had been found. They all had been found, and they were okay.

Ralph and Hailee had always been close. Popular in nature, Hailee starred as being so pretty and awesome on the volleyball team. Ralph had shone in similar ways, being handsome and equally as talented in various sports. They were alike in the way they enjoyed pleasing people and having a hell of a time, whether it was at a friend's birthday party or the annual New Years Eve celebration dinner their cousin Maxine threw each year. But after Ralph had been reunited with his family, he had been acting...odd. Hailee noticed it as soon as they saw him emerge from the plane, hair long and messy, eyes blank and gone. When he smiled, she could tell that inside he was screaming, but no matter how much she asked, no matter how much she told him that he could trust her, he would never say exactly what happened on that island. Whatever it was, it had changed him, altered him so much, he wouldn't even play Modern Warfare or whatever Call of Duty video games he used to be so obsessed with.

Hailee put down the brush she was holding and drew a deep breath. Ralph had to tell her what had happened, right? She was his sister, for god's sake, not one of the bratty kids he had been forced to put up with for so many months. Besides, if anything had have happened. Hailee assumed that Ralph would've been the leader of it and that's why he was so dark now. He would've _had_ to have been the leader. He was _popular_. That's just how it went...well, at least that's how it went in Hailee's eyes.

"LOOK AT MY NEW TAT," CHRISTINA MERRIDEW said proudly as her brother suavely entered the room. Jack turned around with the snap of his fingers and stared at the sun that was now imprinted on his twenty-three year old sister's ankle.

"Sweet," He admired, nodding in approval. "How many is that now?"

"Six," Christina said, flopping down on the couch and reaching for her phone. Sabrina would be dying to see her new tattoo addition. "It matches the moon on my wrist." She gestured to the dark blue moon that covered the just of her wrist.

Jack stared in envy, and for a brief moment, the feeling of having his own body masked by paint returned to him. It was an exhilarating feeling, and from the way his sister stared in awe down at her new tattoo, he could tell she would've felt the same way had she been on the island with him.

"Yeah," He said, trying to mask the flash of jealousy in his voice. Everyone said that he was like Christina, not only in looks but in personality, too. They both had light blonde hair and clear grey eyes with tall, sturdy bodies. Like Jack, Christina was kicked out of most her schools, and eventually landed up in St. Catherine's Catholic Girl's School Military Branch in Idaho. It was like the boarding school Jack attended before the plane crash, but for girls. She graduated there (barely) and went on to buy an apartment in Los Angeles. Christina wasn't around much anymore, and although Jack would never admit it, that saddened him. He liked Christina's company. She understood him. When he confessed to her that it was _his_ doing that Simon and Piggy had died on the island, she only nodded and shrugged.

"_I guess somebody had to do it," _She had said, sending a chill of relief down Jack's spine.

He plopped down next to his sister on the couch, staring mindlessly as she texted back Sabrina.

"When do you go back to L.A?" He asked, hiding the urgency in his voice.

Christina's answer was instant. "Three days."

"Do you have to?"

She smiled when she saw his pleading expression.

"Yeah," she answered, clicking her phone off and looking at her brother. "I do."

Suddenly there was the noise of somebody trampling up the stairs, and to both Jack and Christina's dismay, their youngest sibling arrived at the top of the stairs, her light blonde hair hanging loosely from her shoulders.

"What do you want, Sophia?" Jack hissed. Naturally, he didn't like Sophia, especially after the plane crash. She reminded him too much of Piggy, and although she was skinny and didn't wear specs, she was a tattle-tale and always doing the 'grown-up' thing. Hell, she was only five! What did she know about grown ups! Jack disliked little kids in general, but Sophia was a pest and compared to her older siblings, she was weak.

"Roger's waiting outside for you," Sophia said smartly, like five-year-olds tend to do.

Out of all the people on the island, Jack had only kept in touch with Maurice and Roger. He had known Roger his entire life, for he only lived a few streets away. They had been through practically everything together, from pre-school to military school, and then the plane crash...

Maurice lived about twenty minutes away, so the three saw each other often, and each encounter brought the boys closer and closer together. They would sometimes sit and reminisce about life on the island, life with power and authority. Those were the nice times.

Jack huffed as he arose from his seat and stared distastefully at his younger sister. "Tell him I'll be there in a few minutes."

DEREK MOYER KNEW HIS YOUNGER BROTHER WAS STRANGE. since he had been rescued from that island, Roger had been a bit off, like something wrong had clicked in his mind. He had always been troubled and suffered from ADHD and a tendency for violence, but it was never severe. Roger was prone to fighting, but nothing serious, nothing dangerous. Just rough housing, like most fourteen year olds. Derek had fought had Roger's age, and thought it was normal, so when his parents sent his little brother off to a military school for correction, he was appalled and confused. Then all that dreadful mess with the plane erupted, but when the Moyer's received the call to come pick up Roger, Derek had never been happier. But the brother he greeted at the airport had not been the same as the brother that had left for boarding school. There was a cold glint in Roger's eyes, and he was constantly shifting around. He spoke weirdly, often short answers, and became reclusive and quiet.

Derek knew his brother had developed a fascination with blood. The day after they picked up Roger from the airport, Derek caught the raven haired boy playing with a dead bird, toying with the blood that spilled from the wound on its head. What happened on that island? Derek wasn't sure, but he was worried. He was getting ready to head off to college in a few months-NYU, to be precise-and was concerned what would happen to Roger when he left. He had managed to help Roger keep his little obsessions to himself, but what if one day he slipped up and their mother caught him dissecting another animal? Would she send him away? Maybe, but worse-what if Roger _was_ crazy? What if that animal one day wasn't an animal, but a...a...a

Derek couldn't even bring himself to say it. He knew that two boys had died on that island, and he knew exactly who was behind it.

Derek Moyer knew his younger brother was strange.

"I WILL NOT PANIC, I WILL NOT PANIC," HEATHER WATERFORD insisted as she stood outside of her brother's old room. His "Abbey Road" Beatles poster still clung to his door, but the tape had fallen off on one side and it was ripped in a corner. Heather hadn't been inside his room since...well...

The only thing anybody had said to Heather since her brother's death was that she looked like him and acted like him. Heather would be quietly reading a book, and her teacher would walk by and snivel, "You're just like your brother. Always reading."

Heather would wear a hoodie, and one of her brother's old friends would sadly comment, "Your brother used to wear hoodies."

Whenever Heather tapped her lip like she did when she was nervous or raked back her coarse black hair with one nail-bitten hand, someone, anyone would cry, "Oh my gosh, you look _just_ like your brother when you do that."

Did she really? Heather didn't like to admit that she too saw the similarities. The dark hair, bright eyes, inquisitive look...she could hardly stand it. She had stopped looking in the mirror and avoided doing anything that would reminded her of _him_. That included reading _anything_ by Ray Bradbury, George Orwell, or even Mark Twain, for those were _his_ favorite authors. She couldn't listen to alternative music like Coldplay or old bands like the Beatles (Oh my god, _especially _not the Beatles-they were his life!) without breaking down into tears, and if she ever saw the movie _Dead Poet's Society_, she knew it would crush her and break her heart all over again. He loved all those things-he loved nearly everything, which was what made him so special. He never would take, and he was about the only person Heather knew that wasn't consumed by guilt, greed, or hate. He felt no feelings of hate. He didn't want to newest Xbox or Iphone. Unlike most materialistic teenagers, Heather's brother preferred a book to read or a tree to climb-simplistic matters. He was such a good person, such a pure soul!-So why was _he_ the one to die?

Heather couldn't wrap her head around it. Nobody ever disliked him...nobody _could_. He was just too genuine, too kind. She didn't understand how somebody could've hurt him.._killed_ him, like he was an animal. Like he was a beast. Heather sadly snickered at the thought. Her brother a _beast_? He was about as beastly as he was impertinent, which he wasn't. Her family had been told that it was an accident, that he had stumbled in on some tribal 'dance' his peers were performing. Tribal dance? Where would they have even _learned_ a dance? It just didn't add up to Heather. _Something_ had happened on that island, and whatever it was, it had taken her brother.

Exhaling all her fear and feelings of grief, Heather slowly opened the door to her brother's room. It creaked because it hadn't been used in nearly four months. She squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them, she saw what looked to be fourteen-year-old boy's room. A _living_ boy's room.

But her mind was playing tricks on her, like it often did.

Everything was in place, like her brother had simply gone out for a sleepover or to ride his skateboard. Clothes were spilling out of his drawers, and his bed was neatly made up, a few pillows thrown over the end. His bookshelf was overflowing with novels-Bradbury, Orwell, and of course, Twain. His computer was set up on his desk, and Heather knew if she turned it on she would find the picture of him and his best friend Daniel as the background. A pair of Vans were slid neatly by the door, and his favorite hoodie hung in the corner. It was too much-the pictures of her brother and herself that littered his shelves, the various posters hung up by the wall, the smell of old books and whatever mute cologne he used to use. She was breaking. This was all too overwhelming...it was just like he was still alive...it was like he was downstairs.

_Simon_?

"Stop it!" She yelled at herself. What if he was downstairs? What if was running through the door, skateboard in hand, to greet their mother.

_Mom! I'm home_!

"He's gone!" Heather screamed, her mind spinning at the cruel image of a family portrait hanging over his bed. Maybe he was racing up the stairs, discarding of his beat up converse and ratty baseball cap.

_Heather! I'm home_.

"Shut up!" She scolded herself, falling back against the wall, knees threatening to buckle over.

_Heather? Are you here?_

"He's gone!" Tears streamed down her face, leaving behind dirty evidence that she had been in his room and seen it-

_"I'm here, Heather. Aren't you_?"

"You're dead!" She yelled into his empty room, her voice echoing off the walls. It was like a dark abyss was swallowing her whole. "You're dead!"

The truth of her own words frightened her and shook her to her core, so much that she stumbled out of the room littered with George Orwell and Beatles posters, Mark Twain and his kit of tin soldiers. She slammed the door shut to his room, and in doing so, slammed the door shut to Simon.

"You're dead," She murmured one last time before everything went black.

**Thanks for reading guys! It's starting off a little slow but don't worry, it'll get better. As a warning this fanfiction will contain disturbing themes, and don't worry, I will get to the other boys's families as well, I just decided to cover the first few. Piggy is a biggy (lol) in character terms, but I thought I'd make him an only child, so I couldn't exactly incorporate how his sibling's were doing if he's an only child...Anyways, his family will be in it SOMEHOW and feel free to leave suggestions, critique, or praise in that little review box down there : ) Also, comment anything that you would like to see happen and I'll do my best to make it work. I love all my reviewers and readers so PLEASE R&R. Alrighty, I'm !**


	2. All the Lonely People

"YOU'RE LATE," ROGER said, his tone slightly venomous. It was he, after all, that had to deal with the constant pestering from his older brother, Derek. Jack had it easy, especially with Christina home and all. He just didn't understand what it was like to try to hold back the urges that he had begun to feel since he landed that boulder on Piggy. Derek didn't understand, nobody understood. Not even Jack or Maurice, but they were as close as it got.

As expected, Jack snorted and pulled his DGK hoodie up over his head. "Piss off."

The boys were silent as they marched down the seemingly peaceful sidewalk of Jack's neighborhood, ignoring the little kids that played tag along the road's edge. A few stared as the older boys passed, and in response, Roger cackled and menacingly lunged forward, sending the children into a frightened frenzy. Both Jack and Roger got a good laugh out of that; scaring kids had always been a nice pleasure.

They rounded the corner and sauntered through Darlington Park, which was eerily empty as usual. This path had become part of the boys's daily routine, and now held no foreign features or new surprises. It was the same thing each time; a small concrete walkway curving around the various trees that swayed slowly in the summer breeze. It meandered around the playground and across the park benches, ending somewhere down towards the thick woods where no one dare lurked. There were bears and snakes and what not down there, and only two witty boys like Roger and Jack had the vast stupidity and courage to do such a brave thing as go down there.

But they had to. It was the only place they could relax in peace.

When they finally reached their destination, Jack slumped up against a tree and watched as Roger reached into his Vans bag and pulled out a shining kitchen knife. It was small, but big enough to cause some harm, which is what both boys intended to do. Things hadn't been the same since the plane crash, and a new darkness had set upon both Jack and Roger. Life and death had blurred together in one big glob of paints on the canvas, with no distinction between right or wrong.

"My sister got a new tattoo," Jack said rather casually as Roger peered around for an animal.

Roger raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Sweet. What kind?"

"A sun. On her ankle."

"I want a tattoo."

"Me too. A big ol' tat on my back."

Roger sniggered as he leaned down and smeared some mud upon his face. It made him feel more threatening with his savage mask back in place. Something rustled in the bushes, and Jack attentively arose from the tree.

"I think I heard something."

"Yeah, me too."

A small, grey bunny appeared, staring at the boys with curiosity. It was friendly enough, and just as it went to nudge itself against Jack, Roger brought the knife down it, killing the poor thing almost instantly. There was a small feeling of triumph, that same exhilarating thought that had possessed the boys the night they killed Simon. It was riveting, exalting, and so tremendously great they knew they would never grow used to it. But that was the fun in it; it was always pleasurable, unlike those boring video games that got old after three days. Every kill, whether it be a bunny or a small bobcat, peaked higher than the last, sending shivers of strangely beautiful sensations down their spines.

Roger glanced at his friend sideways, his dark eyes coated with a glaze of awe. Jack stared back happily as he reached down and smeared the blood as warpaint on his once civil face.

"I can feel it again, Rog, that feeling...the one from the island..."

"I know."

"I feel powerful again as well."

"Me too."

The boys paused and smiled almost dreamily into the distance, enjoying the sweet flashbacks of playing with life and death amongst the other boys on the island. How elating the dance had been, hilariously strange Piggy's death was, or even the peculiar humor of having Ralph scared out of it wits-

That brought another thought to Jack's head. _Ralph_. They had exterminated both Piggy and Simon, the ones who reigned with the most threats against Jack's little group, but Ralph had been lucky enough to live. And now back here in society, he knew of their dirty little secrets, and if he pleasured himself to, he could tell anybody he wanted that Simon's death truly _hadn't_ been an accident and Piggy's death came as a relief to most of the boys. Ralph was the last the threat, the only one that stood between civilization and savagery, even here in this miserably civil community that Jack now loathed. He needed rid of Ralph for good, and Roger fervently agreed.

BRIDGET CARTERS WAITED ANXIOUSLY at the bus station with her brother, Maurice. They were due to visit the psychologist Maurice had been seeing since he had been rescued. Bridget had overheard her mother's conversations with Mrs. Merridew and the Moyers. They claimed that their sons had been acting...strange. Off, like something wasn't right. But Bridget hadn't really noticed any vivid changes in her big brother. He acted mostly the same and spent most of his time working on his academics and watching South Park or Family Guy, crazy shows that had practically barely any meaning or depth. Sometimes he would hang out with that Jack kid or Roger, and when he did, he usually kept to himself for a few days, like he was terribly embarrassed or ashamed of something. But then he'd snap out of it and go back to doing homework in front of Peter Griffin, silently laughing as they rattled off another pointless (and to Bridget, quite colorless) joke.

Joshua Carters was three years older than Maurice and five years older than Bridget. He, like his younger brother, was academic and played lots of sports. He was planning on getting a scholarship for either baseball or football (he wasn't sure yet, for he liked them both so much it was hard to decide). Unlike Bridget, however, Joshua had noticed slight changes in his brother's behavior, like the way his face would drain when their mother would cook bacon for breakfast, or how whenever their father insisted on going on a good ol' fashioned hunting trip in North Caroline, Maurice would sneer and stalk off.

"S'not real hunting," He would claim, rolling his light green eyes and marching himself up the stairs. Quite frankly, Joshua was a bit concerned for his brother, and for the first time, he had drug himself up out of bed and was attending Maurice's psychology session with his mother and Bridget. Bridget always went along, as did Mrs. Carters, but it was rare for Joshua to be out of bed before 1 PM on a Saturday, let alone out of the _house_. But here was now, standing patiently beside Maurice, who was texting, and Bridget, who had her nose stuck in another _Harry Potter_ book. She had only read the series at least _five_ times. Mrs. Carters stood on Maurice's other side, her gaze content at having all three of her children with her once again. She loved Maurice. She always liked him the best, and if something _bad_ had changed him on that island, it'd break her. Quite honestly, it'd break all of them. Even Joshua.

DEREK CASUALLY SAUNTERED into the 7/11 seated on the corner of Bulla Avenue. He had just finished up work at the old garage and was treating himself to a Big Gulp. After all, he did have a football practice for three hours in only forty-five minutes, so he deserved a nice treat. Coke was his favorite, and he wasted no time filling the huge cup to the brim, slurping out some of the excess liquid. He had just finished clicking on the plastic lid when someone bumped into him. His car keys went flying across the floor, and the Coke nearly followed, but Derek lunged out and grabbed it, impressed with his own skills. Whoever had bumped into him had not been as fortunate; his Slurpee had spilled over his faded jeans and Abercrombie shirt, leaving him stained in Very Berry Cherry flavor.

"Woah," Derek, said, reaching for some napkins. "You should seriously watch where you're going."

"I know, I know. Sorry man."

"Don't say sorry to me. I'm not the one drenched in Slurpee." Derek handed the kid some napkins and watched as he pathetically tried to clean himself up. He was nice looking for the most part, and seemed to be about Derek's age. He had dark brown hair and piercing emerald eyes, nearly the color of the dark, green sea. The boy was tannish and had an athletic build, and if he wasn't covered in Slurpee, his fashion wasn't so bad either. He looked sort of familiar, like someone Derek may have vaguely met once. The thought pondered him.

"Have we met?" He asked, tilting his head at the guy.

The guy shrugged. "Dunno. What's your name?"

"Derek."

"Derek what?"

"Moyer. Derek Moyer."

The guy glanced up from his blue stained jeans and stared for a moment, then snapping his fingers in an enthusiastic reply. "Do you have a brother?"

Derek was a little confused and creeped out at the accuracy of his question.

"Yeah. Why?"

"What's his name?"

What was this guy's problem? Derek wasn't sure, but it wouldn't hurt to truly find out

who was... "Roger. He's a freshman at Thompson's."

"No way!" The guy asked, grinning. "Moyer! I knew that was familiar! Your brother

is friends with mine."

"Nuh uh! What's his name?"

"Maurice."

"And yours is..."

"Joshua," The guy replied, tossing the napkin in a trash can and reaching out to shake Derek's hand. "Joshua Carters. I think we've met _briefly_ before."

At the name _Joshua Carters_, a faint memory crossed Derek's once blank mind. He was standing in the airport, both his parents at his side, and across the room, he spotted the first of the boys come out of the plane. His stomach tightened as he waited anxiously for his own brother to finally return home for _good_, but it was taking a while. All the families had been alerted that two boys had died, but nobody had said who, so Derek wasn't sure if Roger was even alive. Then a kid standing next to him glanced over and saw Derek's nervous stare. He nudged his head and smiled, obviously making a friendly gesture.

"Nervous?" He asked, his voice nearly quivering.

Derek had nodded. "A bit."

"Me too," The guy had said, then added, "I'm Joshua, by the way. Joshua Carters. My brother's Maurice."

"Derek. Derek Moyer. My brother's Roger."

The memory faded as quickly as it had appeared, and suddenly, Derek was staring back at Joshua and the dripping Slurpee cup in his hands. He had so many questions-was Maurice behaving as weirdly as Roger? Did he often disappear and return home with blood stained shirts and grimy fingers? Had he become as scary as Roger had? Derek had never actually had the chance to converse with any of the other boys's siblings, and the idea that he might be able to made him feel a little anticipated. What if Maurice was perfectly normal? What if this proved that Roger was crazy? All these thoughts drove Derek to pull out his phone and master the stupid wits to ask if Joshua wanted to hang out one day, and to his relief, Joshua agreed.

That was the beginning to a gloriously cold end.

THAT NIGHT, HAILEE DECIDED to her own research and snoop in on her brother. She knew that it was a terribly horrible invasion of privacy...She didn't know what fifteen-year-old boys hid in their rooms, but from what her boyfriend has said, it usually was porn or food. While Ralph was at swim practice (yes, he was a swimmer, and yes, he had been since he was three), Hailee mustered up the courage to scour through her teenage brother's room. The results were disappointing.

She glanced through his drawers in case he hid a journal or something containing the truth about what had happened on the island. His computer was bare of information, as was his bookshelf and closet. Hailee even made the effort to look in his bathroom, which smelt oddly of teenage boy and heavy Axe cologne. There was nothing to be seen anywhere that would reveal anything about his experiences on that damn island, the experiences that took away _her_ Ralph and replaced him with _this_ Ralph. She was ready to give up when she heard his phone buzz, and through mild curiosity, she picked it up and checked it. Hailee felt terribly wrong for doing so-now she really _was_ invading his space. Oh, he'd kill her if he knew! But there had to be something somewhere-

She waited before she checked the message, instead skimming through his other texts. Most of them were girls and they all exchanged the same pettish flirts..._You're cute...No, you're cute..._Freshman shit. There were a few messages from his best friend Riley Onair, and even some from Maurice, one of the boys on the island, but the conversation was rather barren. It consisted of crudely speaking about one girl...Damn Malory was how they referenced to her...and others about Mr. Wise's funny voice and lame homework, for they attended the same school (Funnily enough, most the boys from the island all went to Thompsons Private School for Boys). But there was nothing about the island, not even a quick, 'Hey, remember when...'. Nothing.

With a heavy heart, she quickly checked the new message. It didn't have a contact name, instead only a number. That was strange, but what really grabbed Hailee's attention was the message it bestowed.

_You're next_.

JACK SAT SMUGLY AT HIS COMPUTER, staring down at his phone in content.

After thorough research and some insistent pestering towards Maurice, Jack had managed to swindle Ralph's number and text him. Like most predators, Jack wanted to play with his prey before he went in for the kill. Scare Ralph a little bit, make him worried so that he couldn't sleep at night, make him feel helpless again. That's how Jack wanted it. _He_ was in control, not this stupid society. He made the rules, and for this particular situation, the rule called for Ralph to die, which it would, because he had to.

Jack's phone finally beeped as a message from Ralph came through.

_Who is this_?

Jack grinned and picked up the phone to reply. Little did he know that the receiver of his messages was the sixteen year old sister of his prey.

**Salvete amicae! Lol I'm taking Latin so I thought I'd give it a go! I KNOW, I KNOW, it's moving slow, but I promise it'll get better! Watch out for romances (you can probably guess who...) and very DARK themes, as you can tell. Do not fret, my fellow readers, I'm planning for Piggy's family to make a cameo soon, so he WILL be in it...well, HE won't be, but his family will...whatever, YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN ( : ANYWAYSS, I love all those that are following and reviewing but it would really mean the world if I could get a little more! That encompasses my silent readers too! Leave criticism, praise, or your thoughts about what you want to see happen...I'll do my best to incorporate them! Welp, I better get going. Love you all! Thanks so much again!**


	3. Because

HAILEE STARED BAFFLED at her brother's cell phone, trying to understand the message of this mystery number.

_You know who this is._

Who _was_ this creep? A friend from school playing a trick, maybe? Their prankster cousin Jona...he'd get a laugh out of scaring the crap out of Ralph. Perhaps a pervert?

_No_, Hailee thought to herself, dismissing the cold feeling that had begun to boil within her. _Someone probably just has the wrong number_.

Feeling a little protective over her younger brother, Hailee presently replied back to the mystery person.

_I think you have the wrong number_.

It disturbed Hailee at how fast the stranger replied. Almost instantly, the phone buzzed, and the screen lit up with that same, strange number.

_Ralph, let's not play stupid_.

Hailee jumped back and shrieked, alarmed at the stranger's blunt accuracy. She dropped the phone and it clattered to floor, sending off an odd echo in Ralph's once quiet room. Okay, so it _wasn't_ a misdial, but then _who_ was it?

Hailee could tell the stranger that it was indeed _not_ Ralph texting back, but his older sister, and if they continued to pester him she would call the police. That option sounded safe and secure, but the Ralph would know that Hailee had been a snoop, and that would only result in more depression and anger, something that Hailee preferred not to initiate. That left her with option two: Continue acting as Ralph and figure out who this creep is. So, swallowing her fear and the unsettled feeling that situated itself in her core, Hailee hesitantly picked up the phone and began to form a message.

_Who is this?_

The stranger's reply came quickly to hers, but Hailee barely had any time to read it, for she heard the front door slam open from downstairs.

"Mom!" Ralph called, shutting the front door. "I'm home from practice!"

_Shit._ Hailee quickly pocketed his phone and nonchalantly wandered out of his room and into the 'playroom' (it was now used as a study for the both Andrews siblings). Not long after, Ralph had raced up the stairs and was storming into his room, discarding of his Nike slides and wet swim gear. Once he submerged again from his room, he was dressed in sweats and white t-shirt, his eyes frenzied and confused. When he saw Hailee, he awkwardly approached her.

"Have you seen my phone?" He asked accusingly. Hailee smiled and shook her head.

"Nope. Sorry."

He seemed flustered when he continued. "It's just I really need it-"

"What for?"

"Nothing," he snapped, suddenly turning away and hiding himself back in his room. Once his door was slammed shut and he was blasting music, Hailee reached for his phone out of her pocket and clicked it on, scanning over the message.

_Shall we have an assembly, Chief_?

Despite the lurching feeling in her heart, Hailee refused to say anything to Ralph.

THE WATERFORD'S HAD BEEN visited daily by friends, neighbors, and family who grieved the loss of Simon. Heather had become accustomed to the constant sound of cars in the driveway, the unsettling noise of sobs and tears, and then, worst of all, an aching silence that appeared when their guests left, when the Waterford family was left alone.

But right now, it wasn't one of those times, and yet another guest had strolled up to their front door and presently knocked. Heather's mother welcomed all guests who mourned the loss of Simon, whether they were close to the family or not. She had even accepted the cranky old lady (who never really even liked Simon). But something about today was different. This guest was a stranger to the family. She wasn't a teacher or an old friend, nor was she a neighbor or a distant cousin. She was completely unfamiliar to the Waterford's, which only made them more keen to know why she was interested in Simon.

Heather was the one to answer the door, and when she did, she was mildly alarmed by the lady's startling appearance. She was stout and couldn't be taller than perhaps 5'5, with short, curly hair and light brown eyes. Her face was round and plump, and she wore a light pink suit that matched her nails. She seemed very uptight and nervous, for there was beads of sweat along her brow. Heather stared in interest, and finally, the woman cleared her throat.

"Hello," she greeted quietly, her expression completely blank. When Heather only stared, the lady went on. "My name is Ruth Bayler. My nephew was Angus Bayler."

Heather still couldn't speak and gazed somewhat appraisingly at Ruth.

"You must be Heather," Ruth said, shocking Heather once again. "You were his...his...oh my."

"Ma'am?" Heather asked, her voice trembling as Ruth's face flushed and her small eyes watered up.

"Oh, you must excuse me," Ruth muttered, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing her moist eyes. "It's been...hard for us, just as it has been for your family."

"What?"

"Your brother," Ruth blurted out, causing Heather to jump back. "Simon, am I correct? He was on that island with my nephew, Angus. They both...they both...neither one of them came home."

Heather's face drained, and she knew her once rosy cheeks were wan. She had never thought of the other boy's family, of how they felt. To be perfectly blatant, she never even considered meeting the other boy's family, but now...

"I should get my mom," Heather replied quickly, choking back tears. She left Ruth there as she fetched Mrs. Waterford. Mrs. Waterford was a gently, shy lady, with more class than anyone else. Heather and Simon always thought she resembled Audrey Hepburn in not only her looks, but her sweet heart as well.

"Yes?" Mrs. Waterford said, peeking out the door and at Ruth. Heather had already told her of everything that Ruth had said, and like her daughter, Mrs. Waterford was drained and anxious at this final meeting.

"Ann Waterford?" Ruth asked. Mrs. Waterford stared back in dismay. Ruth drew a breath and went on. "My son was on the...the...I didn't have anyone else to talk to and I...I..." She broke, collapsing in a heap on the front door steps of the Waterford's house. Mrs. Waterford tried to collect her own self, but like Ruth, her beaten, bloodied heart was weathered down, and sobs had begun escape her. Heather stared at these two broken adults. They were strangers, yet they hugged and cried and cursed all at the same time, drawn together by common pain. Heather should've cried. She should've joined the grieving parents on the floor, but she couldn't. She could only stand there and watch, dumbfounded, speechless, and saddened by their show.

She was beginning to wish it had been her instead of Simon who had died on that island.

"WE USED TO BE REALLY CLOSE," Joshua explained as he smothered his burger in ketchup. Derek sat across from him in the booth. After Derek had texted his coach to let him know he was skipping out on practice, they had decided to talk things over, get to know each other and in the process, try to learn more tantalizing secrets from their brothers. They had decided on eating at a _Baxter's Burgers_ and so far, had gotten along merrily. The subject of their brothers had been avoided primarily, but after football and college had gotten boring to talk about, the topic seemed unavoidable. Joshua had brought it up, and as he continued to talk, Derek sat and listened in intrigue.

"But then he went off to boarding school." Joshua took a bite of his double burger and wiped his mouth. "Of course, there was that plane crash and the island. Ever since we got him back, he's been a bit weird."

"Really? How?"

"Well, he's hasn't been _that_ weird," Joshua admitted thoughtfully, shrugging. "He still plays video games with me and watches shit on T.V. But like, sometimes, he just snaps. He'll be perfectly fine and then my mom will take out a knife to cut up some beef for dinner, and he'll freak out."

"Huh." Derek nodded at Joshua, trying to deny how much it reminded him of his own brother, only Roger was worse. Roger relished in knives.

"And then, no offense or anything, he'll go to hang out with your brother and that other kid, and he changes. Before he leaves, he'll be completely normal, and then after he gets back, he's all jumpy and tense. It's screwed up, man, whatever happened on that island, and he's seeing a psychologist, but it AIN'T doing him any good. It's making him worse."

"Roger's the same," Derek replied vaguely, focusing a little to intently on his fries.

"He's done some weird shit in his lifetime, but ever since that island...damn."

"Yeah? Jumpy around kitchen knives too?"

"Nah," Derek said, swallowing. The mood had suddenly become dark, and as Joshua stared in sudden realization at Derek, the tension increased.

"Oh," Joshua replied quietly. "He's...he's _okay_ with knives, then?"

"Yeah. He's _okay_." There was a pause before Derek added, "You know two kids died on the island, right?"

"Yeah." Joshua seemed uninterested in the subject, probably for the same reasons as Derek.

"Do you know how they died?"

"I'm assuming they didn't eat a bad coconut," Joshua answered with mild humor, but his words held a certain darkness.

Derek gulped. "No, I don't think they did. I think they were...were..."

"Gotcha."

"And I think...I think our brothers..."

"Yup."

"Had something to do..."

"Maybe."

"...And that's why their so..."

"Uh huh."

"Look," Derek muttered, annoyed at Joshua's reluctance to speak of the subject. "Something's wrong with my brother, and it's creeping me the fuck out. Something had to have happened to make him that way, and I think it had to do with those two dead kids. Same with your brother. See what I mean?"

"Maurice isn't a murderer."

Derek leaned in with an eerie glare. "So did those two kids eat a bad coconut?"

Joshua's face flushed and angrily, he arose from the booth and threw his napkin down. "I'm gonna go."

"Fine," Derek snapped, watching as Maurice's brother crossed through the diner and out the door. Was what he said really that intimidating? Obviously so. Joshua may be afraid to admit it, but Derek wasn't, and he knew that Roger couldn't be the only one who had come off that island different.

"JACK?" SOPHIA MERRIDEW asked as she timidly entered her brother's messy room. It was littered with dirty clothes and torn rock posters, and it reeked of cologne and half eaten sandwiches. Her brother was seated at his desk, staring blissfully into the screen, his phone protectively under his palm. He glanced at her in annoyance and grimaced.

"What do you want? Shouldn't you be in bed? It's like eleven," He snapped as she ventured further into his room.

Sophia was embarrassed by her pathetically stupid answer. "I'm scared."

Jack laughed at her, _actually_ laughed at her, and snorted. "You're always scared. You're a fucking wimp." Just then, his phone went off, and in a hurry of excitement, he rushed to answer it. Sophia stared from over his shoulder as they read the text that appeared on the screen:

_Seriously, WHO IS THIS_? Sophia tried to ignore the way Jack cackled contentedly at the text message, like a pit of joy had washed through his sorry self. He was about to reply when Christina poked her head through door, a grin plastered upon her face.

"Someone's calling the home phone," She said, smirking. "Some kid named Maurice. Says that he's gotta talk to you."

Jack threw his phone down with a sigh and minimized the webpage he had been looking at on his computer. "Fine. I'll be down in a few." Before he followed Christina, he glanced over warily at Sophia and hissed, "Get out of my room, you little brat!"

Sophia nodded and waited until she heard his footsteps disappear down the stairs, and then she lunged for his phone, eager to find out what he had been texting. She may be only five-years-old, but she was smart and the top of her class, so when it came to reading, she was a pro. She scanned through his messages with a contact simply titled _R_ and quietly read the messages to herself, starting with Jack's message.

_Shall we have an assembly, Chief_?

R responded with, _What?_

_ I've been thinking about you._

Sophia shuddered and couldn't blame R when they countered with, _Who the fuck is this? Some creep?_

_ You know who this is._

And then there was R's latest message, _Seriously, WHO IS THIS_?

Something awful had conjured itself in the pit of Sophia's belly. Slowly, she rested the phone back on the desk and clicked on the minimized window on Jack's computer. It was unsurprisingly Facebook, but what did surprise Sophia was the profile at which he was looking at.

_Ralph Andrews_.

They weren't friends, nor were they Facebook friends. Ralph's profile picture was of him with his arm around a pretty girl, and by looking at his relationship status she saw that it was his girlfriend named Meygan Morster. Ralph was blonde, blue eyed, and if Sophia had been a little older, she would've totally found him hot. The girl next to him was similarly good-looking, with tan skin, deep chocolate eyes, and dark, curly hair. Sophia scrolled over the button that read _Mutual Friends_ just to see. There were only three; _Sam Lionel, Eric Lionel, and Bill DiBiese_. She recognized their names, and had met Bill a few times, but only ever had heard of Sam and Eric from stories Jack told Christina. From what he had said, he pushed the twins around like he pushed Sophia around, so she had to empathize. But Ralph...she had never heard of Ralph before. He had never mentioned him, but he must've been on the island if he knew the twins and Bill. She glanced back at Jack's phone, recalled the confused contact named R, and put two and two together. So Ralph was R, and Jack was texting Ralph?

But that didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Not even a five-year-old could invent a good enough excuse to why Jack was obsessing over this boy. A thought crossed her mind, but Sophia shook it away...Jack had loads over girlfriends before, so it couldn't be _that_...

It had to be something darker, something to do with that plane crash and the island. She, like the other siblings, was plunging into something far too cold for a child.

JOSHUA SAT IN HIS BROTHER'S ROOM flicking through a copy of Sports Illustrated. He was still pretty pissed off at that Moyer guy. Who did he think he was, insinuating that Maurice had participated in killing those two kids? Maybe his brother was a creepy fuck, but not Maurice. Even so, Joshua couldn't help but mindlessly listen to his brother, who was talking that Jack kid on the phone. From the sound of his voice, the call was urgent.

"Jack?" Maurice said into his cell phone, sighing in relief. "Your sister said you were asleep!"

There was a muffled silence and what sounded like annoyed chuckling through the phone-probably Jack. Maurice tried to smile, but ended up frowning instead.

"Yeah, listen bro, I gotta talk to you. Roger called me today." _Roger_? Joshua unintentionally sat up straighter in his chair, keen to listen about Derek's little brother. So that's why Maurice had reverted to his ansy self. Something must've happened.

More silence as Jack replied, and then Maurice spoke again. "Yeah, he told me about that. But listen-I mean, is it worth it? Doing that, I mean? I know on the island we all thought...we thought...you know...but now we're home, and he hasn't bothered us, so why should we-" He was cut off by Jack, who was now screaming through the phone, so much Joshua cringed at the sound.

Whatever Jack said must've horrified Maurice, for he staggered back and gaped.

"Jack! You know I'm your friend, just like I was on the island. But honestly, I don't see the point in doing that to him. He doesn't care about us anymore, Jack. He hasn't made contact with anybody who was _on_ that island...woah, bro, stop yelling!" Another pause before Maurice continued. "Dude, no, you know I don't want that...slow down, I can't hear you...What? You texted him?"

Joshua sat back and discretely craned his neck to see his brother's expression. Maurice looked absolutely terrified.

"Does he know it's you?" Maurice breathed, obviously frightened. After a moment, he huffed and angrily shook his head. "He could go the fucking police, you know! We actually have laws _here_, Jack. This isn't an island!...What?...No, Jack, I don't...Are you _sure_ he doesn't know it's you?...Jack, stop it! I never did anything to you..."

Joshua frowned. What were they talking about? _Who_ were they talking about? It was unsettling to think that Derek may have been right, but the idea was becoming clearer now.

Finally, Maurice sighed into the receiver and sat down in relinquish.

"Okay, fine," He said. "If you'll shut up about it and we just get this over with, I'll do it."

He hung up the phone and glanced over at Joshua, who was staring openmouthed at his brother. What had he agreed to do? Catching Joshua's expression, Maurice sniffled and shook his head.

"What are you looking at?"

They both fell silent, and after a moment, Joshua silently left the room, his phone sweltering in his sweaty hands. Quickly, he snapped open his phone and texted Derek.

_Meet me at the mall tomorrow. I think you may have been right_.

It crushed Joshua at how true his words suddenly seemed.

**Hello my awesome readers( : Hope you enjoyed it! It's just starting to get into the action. I'm trying to tie them all together before I get to the real gore and (oooh-la-la) romance. So hang in there while I get it going. In the mean time, you can inspire me to keep going by leaving a pretty little comment, critique, or even an idea in the little review box down there. Seriously, my reviews mean the WORLD to me, so I'd love to get more of them! As a forewarning, this will be incredibly GRUESOME and have very DARK themes, so please take caution. Anyhoo, I best be leaving. THANKS FOR THE READ! R&R!**


	4. Helter Skelter

**Hola beautiful people! I've been getting lots of requests for our favorite duo of twins, so I'm happy to announce that Samneric will be featured in this chapter! Pleas excuse any misspelled words or grammatical errors...I wrote this at like 1 AM and I'm super tired so there may be a few! (Usually I'm seriously like the grammar police but late at night, it all goes down the drain). Anyways, we're starting to get to the good stuff now, so enjoy! I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING FROM LOTF BESIDES...Hailee Andres, Heather Waterford, Ruth Bayler, Derek Moyer, Joshua and Bridget Carters, Amy Lionel, and Sophia and Christina Merridew. Alrighty, ENJOY! :) **

RUTH VISITED THE WATERFORD'S THE NEXT DAY just so she could speak with Mrs. Waterford again. She wondered the same dreary questions as Simon's family..._Was it really an accident? How did it happen? Who was responsible for it?..._It chilled Heather to her very bones, so much that today, she wanted to get out of the house when Ruth came over. So after her mother and Mrs. Bayler were situated around the small coffee table in the Waterford's living room, Heather grabbed her cell phone and snatched up a light jacket, and then she was off. She rounded down the corner that led to Mayol Street, and then wandered into Revere Square. Revere Square was the hang out of most of the teenagers that lived around Heather. It was home to the movie theater, at least a dozen restaurants, an ice cream pallor, and most importantly, the mall. Like most kids, Heather was heading straight for the mall. Even though she only had been thirty bucks on her, it was the only place she felt she could somehow escape the burden of her dead brother, because honestly, it had turned into a cumbersome load for Heather to carry.

She entered the mall and went straight for the nearest _Harbor_ store, the newesit, most fashionable, expensive shop in the United States. Heather didn't even really like their clothes; they were pricey and completely boring, but she couldn't think of anywhere else to go, and the strong scent they sprayed their clothes with helped ease her out of her cold, restless oblivion. She browsed around for a moment, looking idly at a clothes rack entitled _Hot Summer Wear_. She picked up a frilly blue shirt and immediately put it back down, disgusted by its stupid look. Heather was about to turn away and look at jeans when two boys entered the shop.

"...It freaked me out, man. It was like he just _broke_ and gave in," A brown headed boy said, straining to speak over the loud music _Harbor_ was blasting. His accomplice nodded wearily, his black hair knotted in curls over his forehead.

"What did he say to your brother, Joshua?" The black headed guy asked. They stopped at the stand right next to _Hot Summer Wear_, and feeling mildly interested, Heather was inclined to listen. Both the boys looked a good four years older than her. They seemed to be the kind of guys that strutted the halls at school with confidence and attitude, and from the way they constantly were glancing at their muscled arms, she could tell they were jocks.

_Typical_, she thought to herself.

The brown headed boy named Joshua turned to his friend and gulped.

"I don't really know, but I think it had something to with one of the guys on that island."

Heather froze. _On that island_? Could they be referencing to the very place where her brother was slaughtered? No...probably just a coincidence. Maybe they were talking about a family vacation or something...

When the other guy didn't reply, Joshua went on. "Look, Derek, I'm kind of worried here. From what Maurice was saying, it sounded like they were planning something on one of the guys that lived, and it didn't sound good."

The black haired guy, or Derek, frowned and nodded. "What do you mean?"

"Maurice kept saying something about _He hasn't bothered us, he hasn't made any contact with us_. Then I guess that other Jack kid said something about texting whoever their talking about, because Maurice was all like, _Does he know it's you? How did you get his number? What did you say_? And _then_ he mentioned the police!"

"The police?" Derek looked grim. "Shit."

"I know."

"And Maurice eventually agreed to it?"

"Yeah. He said Roger was in on it too."

Both the boys were silent, and Heather was so anxious she could feel her own heart pumping her in head. Her blood ran cold, and her fingers quivered in anxiety. One of the boys glanced over at her, so she quickly busied herself with a green sweater until the boy looked away. Then, she eavesdropped again.

"I was thinking about what you said," Joshua said in a hushed whisper. "About those two kids that died on the island."

Heather's heart was like a hammer on wood, thudding so loud she'd be shocked if the boys didn't hear it. _Two kids that died on the island_. Another coincidence? Heather didn't think so, and suddenly, her tongue was too thick for her mouth and her brain pounded with blood.

"Yeah," Derek replied, just as nervously. "What about it?"

"I think you might be right, you know, about our brothers having something to do with it."

Derek's charcoal eyes darkened, and his face drained. He tried to manage a lighthearted chuckle, but it sounded dark and distorted. "Well, those boys definitely didn't die from some bad coconuts."

This comment made something within Heather boil. Bad coconuts? If it _was_ her brother they were talking about and Ruth's nephew, the mockery was only infuriating Heather even more.

"I'm just scared they've got something bad planned," Joshua continued, mindlessly picking up the edge of a neatly folded shirt. "But we can't be sure until we get proof."

"What more proof do you need?"

"First, we don't even know who the kid they're planning something against _is_. Second, we have to make sure that they _did_ have something to do with the two kids's deaths on that island. Third, even if we confirm the former, we have to find out what they're planning to do and stop them. So far, we've got nothing besides the fact that our brothers and that Jack kid are involved."

There was a deep silence between the boys, and Heather anxiously waited for them to go on. _Please keep talking! I need to know more_! If they knew anything about her brother's deaths, she wanted to know. And if their brothers had been involved...

Revenge would be bittersweet.

Heather watched as the two boys sighed and exited _Harbor_ empty handed, looking rather casual despite their dark intentions. It made her skin crawl that even here in the mall, she wasn't safe from the connections of that terrible island. For a minute, the scent of perfume and the blasting sound of Ke$ha was loud in her ears, and then it was soft, so soft, it sounded like a sweet lullaby her brother once sang as a solo.

_**I know somewhere**_

_**It's not pretty there**_

_**And if you've ever been**_

_**Then you know**_

_**Where I go**_

_**When I'm afraid of saying so**_

Heather sprinted as fast as she could towards the bathroom as tears spilled down her cheeks.

SAM LIONEL HADN'T THOUGHT much about the island since their departure. He was happy to be home, happy to be back with his parents and their sister, Amy. She was two years younger than the twins but just as bright, with sandy blonde hair and wide grey eyes. The brothers were close with Amy, and reuniting with her had been a wondrous, dreamlike occasion. Out of all the boys, Sam and Eric had the easiest time adjusting back home.

But the nightmares still came. Brash and vivid, violent and bright, they struck the twins in their sleep every night. Horrible visions of a torn, bloodied boy washing out to sea, or a conch shell shattering in midair, a boy tumbling helplessly down a cliff and being swallowed into the ocean. There were flashes of painted faces and savage boys, murder and grand feasts, Ralph sprawled out on the sand, begging Jack for mercy...

The worst nightmares came still, mostly of when the twins were beaten senseless into becoming savages. Jack's wild, blue eyes, and Roger's dark, muted expression as he ferociously tossed another stone across their jaw. But in the end, the boys would wake up, and they were no longer on an island, but in their rooms, complete with their footballs and computers, Ipods and clean sheets. And Amy would always be waiting for them.

Sam dove into the Lionel's pool, followed by the family's dog, Travis. Eric completed the trio by cannon-balling near the deep end, creating such a splash it coated Mrs. Lionel from head to toe in pool water. She didn't mind, though. Having her boys back was enough to get them off the hook for nearly anything. Amy watched from her chair in glee, merely enjoying the fact that they were back and they were safe, unlike the other two unfortunate ones who had died. She knew some of the boys from the island, like Maurice and some kid named Bill, and she vaguely recognized a few names from Facebook. Despite their inner pleas not to, the boys had become friends with each and every kid from the island on Facebook, mostly out of fear. But they hadn't made contact, and instead kept to themselves.

As they played with Nerf guns in the pool, Sam's phone went off by Amy. Being sisterly nosy-like, Amy discretely reached down and picked it up, curious to see what the commotion was about. It was a Facebook notification alerting Sam that a boy named Jack Merridew sent him a message. Digging further into this theory, Amy clicked the notification to read the message, confused at what she saw.

_Samneric, the tribe is assembling NOW. Get in contact and answer asap. Text me at 506-717-4756 or Rog at 506-985-7463. Keep this low._

Just as Amy was finished reading, the phone was snatched from her hands. Sam stood over her, dripping wet, a towel draped carelessly across his broadening shoulders.

"Snoop," he said, laughing at Amy, but after he finished reading the message, his face went grave. Amy caught her brother's solemnity and frowned.

"Who's Jack? What is it?"

Sam's face had paled considerably now, and as his twin hopped out from the pool and sauntered coolly over, the situation only worsened.

"What is it?" Eric asked, sitting down beside Amy and staring worriedly at his brother. Sam gulped back the lump that had formed in his throat.

"It's...it's Jack. He messaged me."

"What?" The word was a thick slur from Eric's mouth. "What does he want?"

"Says the tribe is assembling..."

"...But we've broken up..."

"...He should've forgotten this whole thing like we have..."

"...But he hasn't..."

Both twins glanced between each other, then staring down at the phone that had delivered such an awful message. Amy was still confused; Who was Jack, and what on earth were they talking about?

"What's wrong?" Amy asked as Sam plunked down beside her.

Sam was quick to answer. "From the island..."

"...He was our chief..." Eric continued for him.

"For a while."

The boys fell silent as horrid memories flooded them, filling them with the sour taste of disdain and hatred. They didn't want to be part of Jack's crew again, especially not here back at home with their parents and Amy to count for. Didn't Jack have anything better to do than try to rehash an old, weathered alliance? Didn't he have siblings like Amy that he worried and cared about? As far as the twins could tell, he obviously was usurped by the island and everything that had happened on it, which led them to their next question.

Why was Jack assembling the tribe again?

Was it to savor the good ol' days? To have some fun? To unleash the wild beast that had conjured itself in each and every boy? Or was it a deeper reason, a darker reason...The curiosity was enough to knock the fear from Sam and urge him to punch in Jack's number and text him. Eric was appalled.

"What are you doing?" He hissed, ignoring the creeped out glance from his sister.

"Guys," Amy started, narrowing her eyes. "What's going on..."

"Shh!" Sam shushed her, then glancing at Eric. "I'm finding out what he wants."

"Probably a dance."

"Maybe."

Amy frowned as her twin brothers conversed back and forth. She still didn't understand who Jack was or what he had to do with her brothers. Whatever it was, it had sent them into a rushed frenzy, and as soon as Jack replied to Sam's message, they had run off for a shower and informed their parents that they were meeting a few old friends by the park. A few old friends? Amy thought she might just tag along to see exactly what was going on.

She caught Sam just as he finished drying his wavy hair, standing in front of a mirror in his bathroom. Innocently, she ventured up to him and propped herself up on his bathroom counter, watching as he styled his hair.

"Sam?" She asked, her voice soft even though her intentions were harsh and bold.

He responded with a quick smiled. "Amy?" He answered in a similar mocking tone. For once, she ignored his taunts and went on.

"Where ya going?" She asked, swinging her legs off his counter. Sam's face immediately fell.

"No where special."

"Who's Jack?"

"No one special." His vagueness was sending Amy over the edge.

"Sam," She said, more defiant this time. "Can I go with you?"

Sam actually cackled at his younger sister. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"It's not a place for eleven-year-old girls."

Amy's blood boiled beneath her, and presently, she forced tears from her eyes.

"But I never get to see you!" She sobbed, watching as Sam's expression instantly melted. "And I almost thought that I had lost you, and now...now..."

"Okay!" Sam cried, pulling his sister into a hug and affectionately patting her back. "You can come. Just don't speak and stand behind Eric 'n I. Alright?"

"Okay." The smile that escaped upon Amy's lips was too gleeful to foretell the true emotions she was feeling.

HAILEE WATCHED AS HER FATHER helped Ralph scour every inch of the living room in pursuit of his phone. Ralph had obsessed over it, probably because he couldn't text his girlfriend, and the guilt was driving Hailee mad. Mr. Andrews was trying his best to cheer his moody son up, but none of it was working, and as Ralph broke down again in relinquish, the phone in her pocket burned with shame. But she had to take it...she _had_ to find out who this creep was. They had been texting on and off for the past few days, and so far Hailee had learned that the stranger knew an excessive amount of information on Ralph, yet would not reveal anything about themselves. Most of the conversations resulted in Hailee asking yet again who it was, and receiving the same, cold response each time: _You know who I am, Chief_.

Was he calling Ralph 'Chief'? Was that some kind of freshman-boy code language for something bad? Hailee wasn't sure, but as the phone buzzed in her pocket, she quickly exited the room and entered her own quarters where she slammed the door shut and clicked the phone on. A message from the mystery person had appeared on the screen.

_Do you really want to know who I am?_

Hailee's heart thudded against her chest as she replied as quickly as she could.

_Yes_.

The stranger's reply was once again instant and just as disappointing as the others had been

_Too bad_.

It made Hailee groan and shriek into a nearby pillow. This was ridiculous, not to mention time-consuming and tedious. She was sick of these back and forth games, and if she was going to find out who this sicko was, she wanted to do it right. So, gulping back the fear that had accumulated in her throat, she typed back a response to the stranger's annoying message.

_Maybe if I see you face-to-face in person, I'll remember who the hell you are_.

Hailee knew it was crazy. Putting herself up to meeting some random creep in _person_...absurd. But she yearned to find out who this stalker was, and from the way he typed, she could tell he couldn't be older than sixteen at the most. She was surprised at how long it took for him to answer, which only confirmed her thoughts about him being a kid, but when he finally did, his reply was satisfying.

_Alright then, Ralphie boy. Meet me behind the mall at 8 PM tomorrow. No one else goes. Just you and me. I want to see the look on your face when you see me_.

The message disturbed Hailee just as much as it contented her, but then the dawning of what she actually was doing fell upon her. She would actually have to meet this guy tomorrow, _alone_, and he was expecting Ralph. What would she say to him? Would she finally tell him the truth? She decided she would, and that once they met, she'd tell him to back the fuck off or she would take serious actions against him. It may be rough, but it would be worth it if it helped Ralph.

Tomorrow, she would finally meet this creepy stalker.

**How was it, eh? Good, I hope. Anyways, you know the usual spiel...Review, review, review with criticism, praise, or awesome little suggestions! Thank you to ALL my amazing, wonderful reviewers and silent readers (but I wish you'd review :( ) for your continuous support and drive to urge me forward. Okay, I'm gonna peace out now. Bye(: **


	5. Little Darling

**First off, I would like to say an incredibly grateful thank you to all my lovely reviewers! Secondly, a special shout-out to Cocolada for reviewing every chapter and showing your continuous support! IT MEANS THE WORLD! So thank you so much your awesome comments and critique...it always helps me enhance the story!**

** Now, on with the boring spiel you've all probably heard 5000000000 times: I do not own anything from LOTF (well duh! haha) except all of the OC's (not going to list them again lol) Also, quick side note: YES, Jack will have blonde hair in this fanfiction because it worked better with his siblings and the image I'm trying to conjure for him in this particular story. But the other characters are true to their original Golding descriptions, which includes Ralph (blondie with blue eyes) and Simon (BLACK HAIR, FYI not blonde other two movies!) Alrighty, here's the chapter! ENJOYYY AMICAE : )**

AMY FOLLOWED HER BROTHERS down a forgotten trail in the park. The playground was eerily empty, but the swing swayed in the light, summer breeze, creating such a frightening sound that Amy shivered. The twins looked just as anxious as their sister. Despite their newly found teenage dignity, they were grasping each other's arms, pushing down the familiar feeling of the island's grim appeal that blossomed within them. Eric kept glancing behind their shoulders at Amy, who seemed a little too idle and mindless to be meeting such a cruel boy as Jack. Once Jack recognized that they had brought their sister...It made both Sam and Eric cringe.

Finally, the twins came across the slope that led to the edge of the woods where, unsurprisingly, Jack and a few others stood. After being so used to seeing Jack and the others in ripped, torn, garments of savagery, it was odd to see them in shorts, Abercrombie polos, Nike Elites, and either slides or Vans. They sure didn't look like savages anymore. Maurice had his brown hair cut back and spiked up, and even Roger had made an effort to tame his unruly curls. Jack's hair fell lank and longish around his head, and no mask covered his face. There was only a set jaw and a grim frown, indicating that whatever order of business they would be tending to, it would be serious and very, _very_ real.

Amy strayed bashfully behind her brothers as they approached the three boys, each of who she could not place names. There the was brown headed one in the blue shirt, and then the black haired guy who really needed a comb or some hair gel, and finally, the tall blonde who looked the preppiest out of all them.

"Samneric," He addressed with a certain air of arrogance.

The twins glanced nervously between the trio in front of them.

"Jack..." Sam began, his voice quivering.

Eric picked up for him. "...We don't want any trouble..."

"...just want to see..."

"...why you called another assembly."

Their fear was blatant, and although their sister was concealed by their figures, most of their concern was directed towards her. What had they been thinking, bringing her to such a hostile occasion!

Jack grinned and yanked Eric forward by the collar of his shirt.

"What's wrong, brat?" He leered, laughing at the way Eric began to tremble and writhe under his grip.

Amy watched this, horrified, as Sam dumbly stood there, unsure whether to grab Amy and run or obey the people that once beat him to a bloody pulp. But when he chose to do nothing and Roger's eyes finally found Amy, he cursed himself out and immediately wished he'd have run.

"Hey! Jack!" Roger called, swaggering towards Amy and pulling her into the middle of the circle. She shrieked and tried her best to wriggle out from Roger's grip, but he way older and stronger than she was, so it was virtually impossible to do anything.

Sam, quaking with nerves, stepped up and tried to stop Roger.

"Let her up!" He ordered, but Roger just laughed.

"Shut up, Twinkie." Roger turned his attention back to Jack and held up the beyond-frightened-girl. "Lookie here, the Twinkies thought that they could bring along a little spy to phone home if something went wrong."

Jack stared quizzically at the girl, as if he was deciding whether she was a threat or not. Finally, he threw Eric to the ground and approached their squirming sister.

"Why'd you bring her?" Jack asked the twins, although his focus was on the child.

"She wanted to come!" Eric implored them, practically begging.

"Yes!" Sam fervently agreed. "She doesn't mean any harm. She doesn't even know who you all are-"

"What's your name?" Jack asked Amy, bored, cutting Sam off.

Amy quivered when she answered, "A...Amy."

"And you're their itty bitty sister, huh?"

"Yes." Amy nodded as tears slowly slid down her cheek. Somewhat amused by this emotional display, Jack pulled a knife from his pocket and lazily caught one of the tears that rolled down Amy's flushed face.

"I could tell," he murmured, ignoring the scream that escaped both the twins and Amy when they saw the knife so close to her unscathed face. Roger was relishing in the scene, silently praying that Jack would something more than just catch tears.

Roger wanted blood.

"You should punish them for bringing her along," Roger suggested, trying to contain his quivering excitement.

Jack snorted. "Not worth it." He saw the way Roger's eyes were ablaze with a lust for murder and he smiled. "Save it, Rog. There's a bigger prize out there than a little girl." Jack pulled the knife away and stood over by Maurice, who looked pale and sickened in comparison to his two companions. Roger tossed Amy to the floor and followed his leader, sniggering in disgust when both the twins rushed to their sister. Jack watched with an interested gaze, trying to figure out why they cared so much about Brat Number Three anyway. If it had been Sophia instead of Amy, Jack would have cackled and done the honors himself. Maybe that's why his parents sent him off to military school in the first place.

"Samneric," he started, grabbing the twin's attention. "I won't punish you, but you have earned yourselves some sort of reprimanding for bringing along your sister."

The twins were terrified, as was Amy. "Please, Jack, please don't-"

"It's okay," Jack said, pretending to soothe them. "In return for your idiotic actions, your sister will now also have to participate in our plans. That means no running home and telling mommy what happened. That also means you have to keep quiet about the whole thing. But overall, I think little Amy could be of use." The smile on Jack's face was enough to make both the twins want to punch him, but out of fear, they didn't.

"Well, what are your _plans_, then?" Sam spat, glaring at the three boys.

It surprised them both when Maurice answered.

"They want to kill Ralph," Maurice said, huffing impatiently. "And I've tried telling them that it's a stupid idea but-"

"Hey! Not so fast on the pessimism, Maurice," Roger snapped. "We've already got a foolproof plan, and Jack's been texting Ralph-"

"Texting Ralph?" Both the twins were amazed at this, but disgusted at the sudden news of the boys's 'plans'.

Jack nodded proudly. "Mhm. He's such a stupid git, he doesn't even know it's me! But what makes him an even stupider git is that he's agreed to met me tonight behind the mall _alone_." Jack and Roger snickered, but the twins were washed over in trepidation.

"So you're gonna do it _tonight_?" Sam asked quietly as sweat dripped down from his forehead. Poor Ralph. Poor, poor Ralph!

Jack, likewise, snorted again. "No, dipshit. We'd get caught for sure. Tonight, I'm just gonna mess with him. You know, give him a scare. You guys can come too, but you can't show yourselves until I give you the okay."

"This is so stupid," Maurice murmured, lolling his head back. "Ralph has completely moved on from that stupid island. What's the point in-"

"Shut _up_!" Roger growled, indicating to Jack. "Once we get rid of Ralph, it'll be over. We'll have won. But as long as he lives, as long as his heart is still beating, we'll always have this feeling inside of us, like we have unfinished business. We need to finish what we started."

Samneric looked completely aghast at the idea of killing Ralph _now_, here, back home, more so now that Amy was listening to everything they were saying.

Jack flipped his knife around and grinned at the boys, looking happier than ever.

"Now, do you want to know our plan or not?"

Amy suddenly wished she had stayed home.

DEREK SKATED CASUALLY DOWN the curve of his street, listening to the swift beat of Eminem from his Ipod. He was trying to get his mind of Roger and how rushed he had been when he left with Jack this morning to go to wherever the freaks hung out. It made him sick at his stomach to think that Roger was in on something bad, but the more he thought about it, the more realistic the idea became.

Derek glanced behind him and noticed that a girl was following him. She looked maybe fourteen, with rich, dark wavy hair and tan skin. She was wearing beat up skirt and black converse with a hoodie that looked ten-times too big for her small frame. She looked rather unassuming, save the fiery glint in her grey eyes. Unsurely, Derek slowed on his skateboard and gave her a look, but it was as if she barely noticed. So shrugging, Derek continued down along the street, blasting _Spacebound_ in his ears.

The girl still followed him.

Trying to test the waters, Derek swerved down an old alleyway to see if she would follow, and presently she did. Derek's heart raced, and suddenly the music was too loud in her ears. Nevertheless, he cranked it up, trying to rid of the thoughts swarming in his mind. Did...did Roger send her? Was this a ploy of Derek's own brother? He felt horrible for jumping to such a rash decision, but after all that he had found out about his brother, Derek was feeling a little tense.

In a rush of fear and something that resembled courage, Derek pulled to a stop and pulled the earbuds from his ears, then facing the hooded girl. She seemed surprised that he had stopped, but didn't make any movements herself. Derek to the hint to speak.

"Can I help you?" He asked, instantly feeling stupid.

The girl remained expressionless. "Maybe."

Derek frowned. "Are you following me? Do I know you?"

This time, a bitter smile escaped upon the girl's lips. "Maybe," she answered again, infuriating Derek.

"Well," He began, his tone growing with rage. "Who _are_ you?"

"Heather," She replied, as if giving her name to a complete stranger was absolutely no big deal. "Heather Waterford."

_Heather Waterford_? As far as Derek was concerned, he had never heard of that name before.

"Sorry," He said, picking up his skateboard and shrugging. "Never heard of you." Derek went to turn away, but Heather asked a question.

"What's your name?"

Derek faced her again, and with a reluctant sigh, he said, "Derek Moyer."

"Well then, Derek," Heather snapped, stepping closer to Derek. "I think you have something I need."

Foolishly, Derek laughed at her, humored by such a demanding tone from this slight, petite, girl. "And what is that?"

Tears began to brim at Heather's eyes when she restlessly pulled her phone out from her pocket and clicked up a picture of a boy who looked a little older than Heather, with the same appearance and small smile.

"My brother was in a plane crash," She began, her voice quivering with the oncoming sobs. Derek's face immediately drained, and his heartbeat pounded in his head louder than any music ever had. She couldn't be referring to the same plane crash that Roger had been in, could she?

"My brother's friends were rescued," She continued as tears rolled down her tan cheeks. Her eyes met Derek's, and such an intense exchange was made between the two of them, it felt like thunder and lighting. "My brother never came home," She said in a dead voice.

They were both silent for a moment. Derek was usurped in feelings; confusion, sadness, anger that this girl had brought a sudden burden on his already aching shoulders. Roger was enough to deal with, but now this?

"I heard you talking to that guy in _Harbor_," Heather continued, snapping her phone shut and hiding it away in her pocket. "Your brothers were the island too, and they know something about my brother."

For such a small girl, she was brave and intimidating, and unlike Derek's violent and brash brother, Derek just stood there and listened as Heather went on her tippy-toes so she could talk to Derek face to face.

"I'm going to ask you one time," She said, her voice bold and determined. "What happened to my brother on that island, and what does your brother have to do with it?"

HAILEE FIDDLED IN FRONT OF HER MIRROR, unsure whether to pull her hair up in a bun and at least try to _look_ like Ralph, or just go completely exposed and tell that asshole that she was Ralph's sister and ready to protect him. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans and her volleyball sweatshirt, completed by her worn-out black vans. She glanced at her phone and saw that it was 7:45. In a rush, she left her hair down and loose.

_Might as well just go as myself_, Hailee thought as she grabbed her phone and Ralph's phone and raced downstairs. With both the phones secure in her sweatshirt's pocket, she casually tried to stride towards the door, but her mother caught her.

"Hailee," She said sternly, hands on her hips. "Where are you going?"

Her mother's blonde hairs was frayed and messy, and Hailee peeked at her brother staring at her from behind their mom. He looked suspicious, but other than that, merely colorless, like he usually looked. Ralph rarely carried an expression anymore.

"I...I'm meeting Brookie," Hailee said quickly, nodding along to her own lie. "We're going out."

Her mother glanced her up and down. "Wearing _that_?"

Slightly offended, Hailee nodded. "Yeah. We're going to...to the gym."

"The gym? At 8 'o clock at night?"

"We're picking up her sister," Hailee responded, silently despising herself for creating such a bad lie. "I'll see you later." Before her mother could interrogate her any further, Hailee opened the front door and left as fast as she could, slamming the door behind her. If only her mother knew what she was _actually_ doing...

Hailee had played a few scenarios out in her head last night before she went to sleep. Scenario Number 1 was the worst, in which the creeper she met was a legitimate creep and pedophile. It resulted in Hailee being kidnapped and murdered or Hailee escaping and never leaving the house for another eight months. Obviously, she disliked that one the most.

Second scenario was that it turned out to be a girl who had a major crush on Ralph. This would be the most awkward scenario, as not only would the stalker girl be mortified, but also Hailee for looking like such an overprotective twit.

Third rounded out to be that it was a harmless kid. Hailee had already rehearsed what she would say and how she would reprimand the kid for being such an ass about the whole thing. None of the scenarios ended with Hailee mentioning anything to Ralph, and that only way that would ever even happen would be if it was serious and she was forced to call the police. Obviously, then she would _have_ to tell Ralph, which in all honesty, she _reallyyyy_ didn't want to.

Trying to dodge as many people as she could (on account that she looked like shit and was walking into a public plaza), Hailee meandered around the movie theater and towards the back. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and readied the Emergency Call button, the numbers 911 pacing in her mind. Hailee had already dialed the 9, and her thumb levitated over the 1, just in case she needed to make a quick start. Her heart was drumming, and her phone told her it was 8 'o clock.

_Oh boy_, She thought, praying she wouldn't end up murdered or raped. _The things I do for Ralph..._

She slowly approached the alleyway behind the movie theater. It reeked of grime and dirt along with rotten garbage and popcorn. Hailee couldn't help but scowl, and then recognized that a silhouette was slowly slinking towards her. Her heart stopped and she felt herself freeze. At the sight of her rigid form, the figure cackled.

"What's wrong, Ralphie?" The figure asked, revealing the voice of a teenage boy. "Do you recognize me know?"

Hailee tried to speak, and even though it was just a kid, something about the way he spoke made her shiver. Her words came out as a pathetic squeak, and the boy laughed deeply.

"You squeal just like a pig, you know that, Pretty Boy?" he asked as he grew closer, still not recognizing that it was indeed not Pretty Boy but Pretty Boy's sister instead.

He grew closer, so close that Hailee could hear his short breaths. Suddenly, the boy reached out to push who he thought was Ralph in the chest, but instead he found Hailee's sweatshirt and her...

Hailee screamed.

"Get off me you fucking pervert!" She yelled, pushing the boy away from her. As their eyes adjusted, they began to see each other's profiles. The boy saw that Ralph was indeed not Ralph, but a pretty girl instead, and Hailee saw that the boy wasn't the creepy-it's-all-for-you-Damien kid she had been expecting from his voice. No, he was actually kind of _hot_. Still, he had totally crossed the line in touching her.

"Woah, woah," The guy stumbled back and narrowed his eyes at Hailee. "You're a _girl_?"

"No shit!" Hailee was so embarrassed and mad it made her head spin.

The boy frowned. "But...but Ralph said...he was supposed to meet me..._What_?"

"Ralph didn't say he would meet you," Hailee snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "_I_ said I would meet you."

"_What_? But I've been texting Ralph! I have the messages to prove it...Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"I'm his sister!" Hailee hissed, glaring at the boy. "And Ralph hasn't been texting you. _I have_. I took his phone when I saw your number come up because I thought you might be some creepy pedophile..which it turns out you're not far from."

The boy looked mildly aggravated at Hailee, but didn't say a word. She went on.

"I haven't told Ralph anything _about_ you, in fact, they think I meeting my friend Brooklyn at the gym. I pretended to be Ralph so I could find out who the fuck was stalking him and what they wanted. So, I came here tonight to tell you exactly that: who the fuck are you and what do you want with my little brother?"

"Your _little_ brother?" The guy exclaimed, mouth gaping open. "Geesh, I didn't...Holy crap...I...I..."

"Answer the question, you creep."

"I'm _not_ a creep," The boy countered angrily.

Hailee smirked. "Then tell me who you are."

With a sigh of renouncement, the boy nodded and slumped up against the alleyway wall. "First I need to know how much of this you're going to tell Ralph."

"I'll tell him nothing," She answered instantly. "I don't want him to know about any of this just as much as you do."

"Fine," The boy answered, sighing again. "I'm Jack."

"Jack what?"

"Jack's all you need to know about my name for now."

They stared at each other for a minute, caught in a deadlock, Hailee glaring, and Jack really wishing that the other boys weren't watching his fatal humiliation. Finally, Hailee spoke.

"I'm Hailee," She said, watching as a smile appeared on Jack's face.

"Who would've thought..." He muttered to himself, kicking the air. He glanced back up at Hailee at smiled. "You sure as shit outsmarted me, that's for sure."

"What do you want with my brother?"

"Nothing," Jack answered coolly, his icy blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Just playing a prank."

"Didn't sound like you were just playing a prank."

"Oh really?"

"Sounded like you wanted to beat him up."

Jack laughed. Beat him up? No, Jack wanted him _dead_. Although it wouldn't have happened tonight, it was bound to happen soon, at least on Jack's agenda. But now that Pretty Boy's sister was involved, it made the plans a little more complicated.

"You got me," Jack lied, raising up his hands like he was being arrested. "I was definitely gonna beat up Ralph."

"Why? What has he done to you?"

"He stole my girlfriend," Jack lied again, shrugging casually. He admired the way he could spin up a story and make in so believable. "Meygan Morster. You know her?"

Hailee stared at Jack for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Yeah."

Jack pretended to sadly smirk. "Yeah well, I had her first. But then Pretty Boy came along and she was a goner. Broke up with me by text message, that bitch."

An odd silence was spread between them as Hailee tried to decipher whether or not Jack was telling the truth. She looked at his icy, piercing blue eyes and mussed blonde hair, his athletic build and slight smirk. She started to feel lightheaded, and her knees were going weak.

_Oh no, no_ She thought. _Not for him...He was going to beat up your brother_!

"So you had nothing to do with the island?" Hailee asked rather hoarsely, just to make sure.

Jack looked confused. "What island?" He couldn't help but silently applaud himself for his superb acting.

With that assurance, Hailee nodded and slouched up against the wall next to Jack, unaware that she was being played worse than Simon and Piggy when they had been on the island.

"So Ralph will know nothing of this, right?" Jack asked suddenly, watching as Hailee slowly sat down. He followed her descent.

"So long as you leave him alone," Hailee answered softly, her skin growing warm when Jack's elbow touched hers. Jack nodded somberly, although in his head, he was already devising a brand new plan for Ralph's demise.

"So I was texting you all along?" He asked, purposely leaning in towards Hailee's ear. Her heart raced beneath her.

"Yeah," she answered, her entire body radiating with warmth from Jack.

Jack smirked. "Now that we've actually met and I can't text _his_ phone anymore, am I allowed to text your phone?"

Hailee's entire face was aglow, and as much as she tried act nonchalant, she couldn't conceal how smitten she suddenly was for this charming and quite handsome boy.

"I guess," She replied, shrugging coolly but smiling when he brought out his phone to exchange numbers. But as she went to pull out her own phone, Jack's hand found her wrist, sending delicately beautiful shivers through her arm.

"If I had known I was actually texting a beautiful girl," Jack began, his lips close to her ear. "I would've played nicer."

And then it happened before either one of them could object. A savage, teenage side took ahold of both Jack and Hailee, and suddenly, he was pressing his lips on hers, enjoying how soft and gentle they were under his own. Hailee surprised herself by kissing him back, and although he was still a strange boy who had harassed her brother over a girl, she had to admit that she was definitely attracted to his wit, his charm, and obviously, his looks. He parted her lips with his own and indulged in her taste - mint toothpaste, he finally decided. Their teeth clanked and their tongues grazed by each other, creating such a beautiful feeling within them both that they smiled. He bit down on her lip, relishing in the fact that she was _his_ sister and he would be wounding Ralph in the most venomous way possible. At the thought, he bit down a little too hard and felt a trickle of blood leak down from her lip, yet neither Jack or Hailee seemed to care. She groaned against him as he sucked away the blood from her mouth. She was burning under his touch, falling into such a drunken oblivion, she couldn't see straight. But why? She barely knew him, yet she was ravaging his mouth more than she had to any other boy before him, boys that she may have known for years. Here she was, with this stranger she had only just met, and she was already developing feelings she thought only occurred in cheesy Taylor Swift songs or Twilight books. Who was this guy, and why did he have such a hold on her? When his lips finally left her, he was staring at her, not only with satisfaction, but a possessive look of pleasure.

Hailee felt stupid when she asked, "Why did I do that?" She wasn't a slut, not the girl to kiss random boys in alleyways, let alone actually _feel_ something for them.

Jack grinned and brushed the side of her face with the back of his hand. Her skin was ablaze under his touch.

"Because I'm _your_ chief. Not him."

Hailee was too infatuated to figure out what Jack really meant.

**WHAT? Hailee likes Jack? Jack kissed Hailee? Ralph has no idea what's going on? CRAZY! I hope that was okay. I'm trying to get right into the plot now, and part of the plot (if you may please recall) was some romance (ooh-la-la) I also thought that making Hailee&&Jack be all smitten with each other enhances the plot and makes the story line a little more juicy. By the way, just in case it was confusing, remember how Jack told Roger, Maurice, Samneric, and Amy that they could come help 'scare' Ralph that night? Well they did tag along, so they kind of saw that whole thing with Hailee and Jack. ALRIGHT, just needed to clarify! Once again, thank you for all your amazing reviews...please, please, please review this chapter as well! Means EVERYTHING to me! Place your comments, criticism, and suggestions and I'll see what I can do! hehe, the plot thickens :) Alrighty, bye my amazing readers!**


	6. Across the Universe

**AHH I should be working on the book that I'm writing, but messing with the LOTF crew is just so damn fun. Plus, the last chapter was a whole whirlpool of craziness, and I want to try to update every day. Sadly, with school and everything, that might not happen, but I will try my best! I don't want to leave you guys hanging for weeks and weeks like some fics do (because trust me, I understand that kind of pain when your favorite fanfic is never updated). So, here's another chapter for Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night. Hope you guys enjoy! ALSO, shout out to the person who can tell me who their favorite character is and why ;) **

CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE ALWAYS SEEMED like a dull, Hollywood movie to Hailee, and although she refused to watch it, she couldn't help but relate to the title. Crazy, stupid, love...yes, that's _exactly_ what it was. Crazy and utterly stupid. Who was she kidding? She didn't even know what _love_ was, but she figured that this weird blossoming in heart and dizziness in her mind were the beginning signs. Like love, Hailee was crazy and stupid for what she had done. Kissing a random guy in an alleyway after he continuously harasses and threatens to beat up her brother...Absolutely crazy and stupid. But actually _feeling_ something for him? As much as she wanted to gush about it to her brother, she knew she couldn't and had promised Jack not to. In return, he was going to leave Ralph alone, and for Hailee, that was enough. She had tried to act cool and collected after their spontaneous make-out session, but like a naive schoolgirl, she giggled and blushed kissed her goodbye, again when only three minutes later he text her.

_Hey beautiful princess :*_

Crazy and stupid. Yes, that is _exactly_ how Hailee felt, but in a weird sense, she liked it.

AMY CLIMBED OFF THE DUMPSTER AFTER HER BROTHERS, gaping as Jack coolly sauntered over, a noticeable skip in his stride. Like Amy, the other boys were completely amazed and shocked that Jack had achieved such a thing in a matter of ten minutes, more surprised that Ralph had a sister. Both Maurice and Roger raced up to Jack, and as soon as they were certain Hailee was gone, they began to pester.

"Woah dude!" Maurice exclaimed. "What was that?"

Unlike the extremely excited Maurice, Roger seemed quite pissed off and angry.

"What the fuck?" He asked, shoving Jack hard in the chest. Amy had to hold her tongue when the thought, _Aw, he's jealous of his boyfriend_ came to mind.

Jack looked utterly flabbergasted by Roger's exasperation.

"What?" He asked, pushing Roger away. The twins and Maurice awkwardly stood and watched, waiting for the scene to unfold. Whenever Roger was angry, the outcome usually wasn't pretty.

"That was his fucking _sister_!" Roger shrieked, ferocity burning beneath his dark eyes. "She _knows_ who you are and she _knows_ that you're after her brother! To top that off, you fucking _kissed_ her. How the hell will we get her off our back if she thinks your her boyfriend?"

"Relax, Sparky. Geesh." Jack massaged his temples and glared at Roger. "She thinks I wanted to beat Ralph up over a _girl_."

"How can you be sure she believed it?"

"Easy," Jack smirked. "She's like her brother. Doesn't like to accept the evil in truth, so she'll take the first excuse that comes along. She's weak like him, too. Easy as well."

"That's rude," Amy piped up, defensive over the poor girl.

Jack threw her a look that would kill if it could. "Shut up, Brat Three." He turned back to Roger. "I know it seems like all our plans our screwed up, but they're not. See what I've done? We're gonna get Ralph better than we ever could've before."

"What? So you're gonna screw his sister to death and hope he finds out about it?" Maurice asked sarcastically, arising a shimmer of laughter from the others. Jack slapped him once and he shut up.

"No," Jack continued, and then a sly smile appeared on his lips. "But I might add that to the mix. But imagine how easy it's gonna be to get Ralph when we have his sister's trust. Seriously, if I decide to play around with her and get serious, then she starts inviting me over, I'll be in his _house, _in his _room. _It doesn't get any closer than that."

"That's great, Jack," Roger sniggered, shaking his head. "I'm so glad you'll be able to steal a pair of his underwear to sniff at night, but we can't exactly _kill_ him in his house."

"Shut _up_, Roger," Jack snarled, raising his fist. Roger stood back, but didn't cower down. Jack continued. "There's gonna come a time when Hailee wants baby brother to meet her boyfriend. And guess what we'll do then? We'll tell her to meet us at the prearranged _spot_ and to bring Ralph. Then, once they're there, we'll have 'em both. Commence the killing. It's that easy."

** "**That's low," Maurice murmured. "You're gonna kill your girlfriend?"

"Maybe," Jack shrugged, grinning an awesomely perverted smile. "Depends on how much I like her by then."

"That's horrible," Sam continued, shaking his head.

Eric nodded. "Yeah. Now instead of just having Ralph, we'll have his sister's blood on our hands too. And she wasn't even on the island!"

"I haven't decided about her yet!" Jack snapped, shoving Eric to the ground. Sam and Amy quickly helped him up.

Even Roger was concerned about Jack's plan.

"I don't see the upside," He murmured in that deadly serious voice of his.

Jack shook his head, frustrated that they were all so dull.

"We don't have to catch Ralphie," Jack announced, grinning. "He'll come to _us_. And we'll be able to torment him for a lot longer. Don't you see? We use that pretty little sister of his to drive him mad. C'mon, it's every guy's worst fear, your enemy screwing your sister, right?"

All the boys except Roger (who didn't have a sister) nodded, and Amy awkwardly blushed. Unexpectedly, Jack reached out and tugged Amy over, easily moving her skinny frame with his strong hand.

"That's where she comes in," Jack said, grinning. "We'll use her as a lure, just in case Ralph gets suspicious. If he ever gets wary that something's up and suspects we're...you know...with his sis and planning something against him, we'll send little ol' Amy in as a rescue. She's eleven. Who the fuck would suspect an eleven-year-old to take part in a murder? She'll clear things up, make up some story about me and Roger getting sent to juvie or something, and that'll be that. Hell, she can even make friends with him. That might be fun."

All the boys except Samneric nodded in agreement, admiring Jack's obvious skill and organization. They all regretted not making him chief on the island in the first place.

"Now," Jack said, dismissing them. "Go get some sleep, for tomorrow, it'll start. The hunt for the enemy is officially back on."

DEREK HAD GIVEN HEATHER the address of the boy who constantly hung out with Roger, and Maurice, a boy Heather learned was Joshua's, the other boy at _Habor_, little brother. Derek had told that this kid shook both Roger and Maurice to their very core, and if anybody had anything to do with Simon's death, it would be him.

He also reluctantly admitted that both him and Joshua speculated that their brothers also took part in the murder. As much as this hurt Heather, she could tell that Derek was telling the truth when he claimed that this one boy would have been the ringleader. So, scooping up her fear and solemnity, Heather headed over to the address Derek had scrawled on a torn piece of notebook paper.

_546 Walnut Avenue, Charleston. _

_ Arthur and Melissa Merridew, son is Jack._

Jack, that was her brother's murderer's name. Jack. And Roger. And Maurice. Simon's murderers. If she had heard those names on any other day, she would've assumed nothing, but now, she loathed them with the deepest part of her, a part she never knew she possessed. She hated Jack and Roger and Maurice without even knowing them, hated any kid with the name Jack or Roger or Maurice. It was unfair, but so was her brother's death, and as Heather saw it, it was an eye for an eye.

Timidly, she knocked on the grand oak door and was surprised when a small girl with bleach blonde hair opened it. She couldn't be older than five, and wore a shirt with a sparkly cat and matching pink leggings. Oh to be young again...

Heather bashfully waved at the girl.

"Hi," she said, forcing herself to smile. The girl looked her up and down, taking in her Doc Martens and fringed Forever 21 shirt. Heather went on. "My name is Heather Waterford. I think...I think my brother knew...I mean, _knows_ your brother." She didn't want to give away anything about her situation _yet_, and as much as it pained her to do so, she was acting like her brother was alive.

The little girl finally nodded.

"I'm Sophia," She said in a small, innocent voice. "I think you're looking for Jack."

"Yeah," Heather answered quickly. "Jack. That's him." She still hated that name, hated how sour it tasted on her tongue.

"He's not home right now," Sophia said plainly, shrugging. "He's been out since last night."

Heather frowned, her spirits crushed. "Oh..."

"What did you need him for?" Sophia looked as if she really wanted to help Heather, so Heather took advantage of the girl's selflessness and conjured a lie that pained her to say.

"My...my brother came over a few weeks ago and left his Ipod," She lied, trying to choke back the inevitable sob that caught in her throat. A bad lie if Sophia asked for Heather's brother's name or happened to know each and every one of Jack's friends off by heart. Luckily, she didn't, and instead opened the door and let Heather in.

"His room's upstairs to the left," Sophia said, gesturing up the stairs. "Just be quick."

Heather trotted up the stairs as calmly and coolly as she could manage, ignoring the family photographs that littered the walls. She saw a few glimpses of Jack, and as handsome as he appeared in the photographs, she only loathed him even more. Loathed him because _he_ was home and Simon wasn't.

The only boy's room Heather had ever been in was her brother's and her cousin Mitchell's. She didn't have a lot of guy friends, nor had she ever had a boyfriend, and the strange, foreign smell of uneaten pizza and dirty football jerseys came as an immediate disgust. Simon never kept his room as messy as Jack's, and it certainly never smelled nearly as bad. The room was cluttered, the floor adorned by dirty clothes and day-old soda cans. She stared around at the shelves, examining a few photographs of her brother's executor. He, like Simon, had been in the choir, and it appalled Heather when she saw the very same framed choir picture hanging on Jack's wall that Simon had from that boarding school. They had mailed it to each of the families right before the plane crash. She took a closer look and saw her brother in the middle row, smiling happily, his dark hair falling neatly over his forehead. And then she caught Jack in the back row wearing the special Head Chorister's robes, his blonde hair sticking out in tufts around his head. There were a few baseball trophies and choir medals, along with a football jersey with the number 7 and MERRIDEW printed on the back. It all made up strange person with odd attributes: football, baseball, choir, and rotting pizza. How utterly unlike Simon.

Beside a stack of CD's Heather saw Jack's phone. He had dropped it off after he had gotten home from seeing Hailee last night. Then he had gone back out to sleep over at Maurice's house with the twins and Roger (Amy had gone home on account of being the only girl). Gingerly, Heather picked up the phone and clicked it on, grunting in disgust at the half-naked woman background. There was no passcode, and feeling reckless, Heather went under his messages just to see what the murderer was up to. His latest message had been to a girl named Hailee, and Heather was more than obliged to read them.

_Hey beautiful princess :*_ Jack said.

Hailee responded with, _Hey cutie ;)_

It went on like that, giving each other pettish compliments and exchanging you-say-goodbye-no-you-say-goodbye messages. The only interesting one was when Hailee said, _I hope my brother doesn't get mad_.

Inclined to continue, Heather read Jack's response.

_You promised you wouldn't tell him_.

Hailee said, _I won't. But still, he's eventually going to find out. You will leave him alone, right?_

Heather was appalled at how desperately hopeful Hailee sounded, and a sick churning unearthed itself in her stomach.

Jack responded with, _Yeah. I will. Gtg bye beautiful :*_

What? Heather was confused. What was all that about Hailee's brother? Who _was_ Hailee's brother? She exited the messages with Hailee and scrolled down to the next most recent person, a contact entitled _R_. She read them all, and after she was finished, she felt a deep discontent in her heart. Rereading the messages that said, _Shall we have an assembly, Chief_? and_ You know who I am, Chief_. Why was he calling him Chief? She figured out that _R_ stood for Ralph, and whoever Ralph was, he was terribly confused by Jack. According to the messages, he was supposed to meet Ralph alone last night around eight 'o clock..

A shock of cold hair rushed through Heather. _Eight 'o clock_? She went back to Hailee's messages and saw the first one was sent at 8:10, then vaguely remembered how Hailee had begged Jack to leave her brother alone...

Was Ralph Hailee's brother? That still didn't explain why there were no further texts to Ralph and why it must've been Hailee there last night instead of Ralph...

She checked Jack's other messages, including and not surprisingly a few with the other two boys Heather hated. She started with Maurice.

Yesterday at 6 PM Maurice said, _Yo, we still on for tonight?_

Jack replied with_ Yeah. 8 PM behind the mall. This is gonna be sick_.

About an hour later, Maurice said, _Almost there_.

Another hour an half later, Maurice said again_, You still coming to my house?_

_Yeah. Just dropping phone at home_ Jack responded.

_Can you believe that R's sister showed up instead of him? _ Maurice replied.

Jack, however, never did reply. Heather flipped through the messages with Roger and noticed that they were mostly the same, except Roger kept mentioning something about a plan being ruined or Hailee being a stupid, dumbass slut. Heather's suspicions were confirmed about Hailee being Ralph's sister and showing up to meet Jack instead of letting her brother go. But that led her to her next question:

Who was Ralph, and why were the three boys so interested in him? What was the plan that Roger kept talking about? And why on earth did they continuously refer to Ralph as _Chief_?

It puzzled Heather, and when she noticed Jack's open laptop in the corner of a desk, she ran her finger over the mousepad and clicked up Internet history, then following a link to Ralph's Facebook. Jack had obviously been doing some major stalking, and after seeing Ralph's profile, she was able to find out exactly who he was for herself. Blonde, tall, handsome...real name was Ralph Andrews. His sister was Hailee Andrews, and after one peek at the female version of Ralph, Heather already decided that she would not be someone she would usually associate herself with. Outgoing, pretty, flirty...all these things described Hailee from what Heather could see, and according to Heather, they were exact opposites.

Jack only had three mutual friends with Ralph, but before Heather could click and see who they were, Jack's bedroom door creaked open and in walked little Sophia.

"What are you doing?" She asked in a tone that was seemingly known for sassy five-year-olds. Heather jumped back from the laptop and quickly rushed to brush down her jeans...a common gesture she made when she was nervous.

"I was just...just..."

"What's your brother's name again?" Sophia asked, frowning

Heather's throat was dry when she replied, "Simon. His name is Simon." Sophia thought for a moment, then shook her head in sudden confusion. "Jack doesn't know any Simon's!"

Her words shouldn't have angered Heather. After all, she was just a kid. But nevertheless, they did, and seething with rage, Heather stormed over to the choir picture from the boarding school an dripped it right of the wall, sending Sophia's mouth agape. Heather walked back over to the five-year-old and shoved the picture in her face.

"You see that kid?" She asked, pointing to her brother. "That's my brother, Simon.

Now you see that kid?" She now gestured to Jack, and Sophia sickly nodded.

"Yeah," she answered, her voice trembling.

"Well, our brothers ended up stranded on an island together. You know what happened?"

Tears slid down Sophia's cheeks, and with a flushed face, she nodded. "Yes."

Heather ignored her and continued, sobs erupting from her own self. "Your brother killed mine. Did you hear that? He _murdered_ Simon, _my_ brother-"

"I know!" Sophia cried, momentarily shocking Heather's sobs to a stop. "I know what he did on that island!"

Heather was hesitant when she asked, "H...how? What do you know?"

"Jack tells my big sister Christina," Sophia replied through hot tears. "He told her what he did, and he says he doesn't feel sorry about it."

"What did he do?" Heather was beginning to feel dizzy again, and suddenly everything looked like melting paint.

"There was a dance," Sophia sobbed. "And it...it..."

It became apparent that the little girl could no longer recall the story, and from the way her shoulders violently shook with sobs, Heather could see that _she_ was sorry for what her brother had done. Gingerly, Heather sat down by Sophia on Jack's bed and pulled her close, like a mother may do to a daughter. She smoothed her hair back and gently soothed her, trying her best to be motherly. It must've worked, because after a few minutes Sophia's breathing slowed and the tears had began dry.

"He hurts me," She murmured, staring in fear at a picture of Jack from across the room. "He hits me...hard, and he leaves bruises and cuts. His friend Roger hurts me too, even worse than Jack. He fractured my ankle a month ago." Sophia slid up her pink leggings to reveal a severely bandaged ankle. It looked like it had just come out of a cast, and now was in the readying stages of being healed. Even so, Heather felt a pang of guilt welt up in her heart for being so vexed at the little girl before. If her brother would murder an innocent boy, imagine what'd he do to a pesky sibling?

"I'm so sorry," Heather replied softly, brushing down Sophia's long, blonde hair. "I didn't...I didn't..."

"I want to help you," Sophia said suddenly, gesturing towards the laptop that had been left ajar. "I want to help you get justice against Jack for what he did to your brother."

"But there's no physical evidence..."

"He's told my sister, and a few of the guys that helped talk about it with him sometimes." Sophia paused for a minute, then jumped up to grab a piece of paper and a pen off Jack's desk. She handed the items to Heather and gave a bashful smile. "I can give you the name and address of one them..." She stopped for a minute, then nodded in confirmation. "I won't give you Roger's. He's the scarier one. I'll give you Maurice's...he's a lot nicer. Actually, he's really sweet. Whenever he comes over, he plays superman with me, you know, when he picks me up and spins me around like _this_!" Sophia demonstrated by slinging her arms out like two wings and running wildly across Jack's room, grinning for the first time in ages. When she finally settled back down, she sat beside Heather on the bed and dutifully recited Maurice's details.

"187 Marbery Lane, Charleston. His name is Maurice Carters."

Heather was secretly glad that Sophia had given her Maurice instead of Roger. After the stories from both Derek and Sophia, Roger sounded like a sure little brat, someone to definitely be mindful of, and Heather would.

Sophia walked Heather back downstairs and bid her goodbye, sad that her new friend had to leave. Heather was contented at her discoveries, and although it seemed like she was jumping from address to address, she didn't mind at all. With Maurice's address clenched in her hand and Ralph's name fresh in her mind, she set out to the library where she would do her own research on Jack and Ralph.

**I like to call slow chapters like these the linking chapter because they're just kind of there to link everything together. Upside is the chapter after the linking chapter will always be AMAZING WITH ACTION AND ROMANCE AND AHH! But the linking chapter is always a little dull:/ Hope it wasn't too bad! Hahaha! Please, please, pretty please review this to make my day FOREVER! Leave comments, questions, concerns, or advice in that little review box down there! Do it, or Roger will come get you O.o thank you to all my lovely reviewers(: lol alrighty, bye!**


	7. Happiness is a Warm Gun

**Okay, so just as a warning, this chapter is very graphic and dark, so have caution. It was hard writing it, and you'll understand why after you finish reading it. The song used is the famous**_** Oh Fortuna**_** translated into English. Please, when you're reading it, imagine not being sung in the harsh, loud way it usually portrayed. In this chapter, it's meant to be softer and eerie, so just keep that in mind! I do not own anybody besides the OC'S, because if I did, I wouldn't be writing a Fanfiction for it, would I? Anyways, have at it!**

NO MATTER HOW MUCH HE LOOKED, Derek could not find his football jersey anywhere. After thoroughly scouring the entire house, Derek came to the resolution that it was gone. Clinging onto a small strand of hope, he hesitantly entered his brother's room where, likewise, he saw Roger seated at his desk. He wasn't on his computer, nor was he texting...he was vividly stroking a tattered piece of cloth, his eyes squeezed shut as his voice murmured foreign words. Scared to disrupt this strange sight, Derek gingerly reached out and touched his brother on shoulder, jumping back when Roger's eyes opened in a flash of fury.

"What?" He snapped, his pupils large and wide. For once, Derek felt like the younger brother.

"Have you seen my jersey?" Derek asked his brother, almost warily.

Roger spat. "No."

There was a strenuous silence between them, one so strained and vexed that it sent chills up Derek's spine. Quietly, he broke the silence in a timid tone, "We used to be close, Roger. We used to be friends."

"So?"

"You used to talk to me," Derek continued, his voice growing louder as he grew in strength. "When Mom and Dad would make you upset, you'd come to me. Remember? Remember how we used to laugh and joke?"

Roger was silent, so silent, it angered Derek. Damn him!

"What's happened to you, Rog?" Derek cried, slamming both his fists down on the desk. Roger purposely averted his gaze and chewed on his lip. Derek pressed on. "You're not the same anymore. You've changed. You hide up here in your room all the time, and when you come down, you're always quiet and reclusive, even with me. All you can do is think about those stupid buddies of yours-"

"They're not my buddies," Roger hissed. "They're just the only ones who actually _understand_ me."

A sick feeling had emerged in the pit of Derek's stomach. He didn't like where this was heading.

"What do you mean?" Derek asked, leaning forward. "Don't I understand you?"

Roger was hesitant when he answered, "No. Not anymore. And even if you did, you wouldn't like what you saw."

"Tell me, Rog," Derek pleaded quietly, kneeling down at the boy who was once glued to his side, the boy who laughed and played. "I'm your brother. I'd never judge you-"

Roger sniggered, "I think you would."

"Roger, please-"

"Piss off."

Derek was helpless against his younger brother, completely vulnerable to the pain he was wrenching upon him. He tried once more in an even hoarser voice than before.

"I know you're planning something with Jack and Maurice," Derek said, knowing that out of everything, this would arouse the best reaction from Roger. And it did, but not in the way Derek expected.

Roger lunged up from his chair and tackled his older brother, slamming them both down onto the itchy carpet. Roger leered over him and pulled Derek up roughly by the collar of his shirt, then smashing him back down on the floor. Where had Roger gotten strong? Derek wasn't sure, but then again, the slight ringing in his ears and pounding in his head may have been clouding his thoughts.

"How the fuck do you know about that?" Roger growled, eyes livid. When Derek didn't answer, Roger reconsidered his questions and hotly asked, "What do you know?"

"I know that you're planning something bad," Derek managed to choke out despite the pressure of Roger on his chest. "And I know it involves some kid from the island-"

But what came next surprised Derek the most. Roger punched- _actually_ punched- Derek square in the nose. There was a horrible cracking sound and blood trickled out from Derek's nose, leaving a bloody trail down his neck. He emitted a groan of pain, but it was too late - Roger had seen the blood and felt the slick liquid slip between his fingers, and already, the urge was starting up.

"How much do you know?" Roger asked again, trying his hardest to push away the pleasure at seeing blood..._human_ blood. It was something Roger hadn't had the luxury to view since Piggy's death.

This time, Derek was more willing to cooperate. "I've told you what I know...what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Roger yelled, and staring back down at his disgusted brother, he smacked him in the face again. Why? Because it felt good. Because Roger liked seeing someone stronger and older than him writhe in pain. He imagined Derek being replaced with Ralph, pinned down on the floor and helpless. He heard his brother's pained moans of agony and pictured them as Ralph's. It would be a glorious day when the slippery blood between his fingers and under his fingernails would also be Ralph's. As his imagination got the best of him, these strange hallucinations became reality, and suddenly, in Roger's mind, Derek _was_ Ralph, and to avenge the fallen savages, Roger would take no mercy on him.

Roger arose from his brother for a moment and stormed over to one of his drawers. Derek clutched his nose in pain, confused and frightened that his little brother was taking such drastic measures. But to Roger, Derek wasn't even his brother even more. He was a fair haired, blue eyed ex chief named Ralph, a boy who needed to done away with.

When Roger turned back around to face his brother, there was something malicious and crazy in his dark eyes...and his hands. Derek shrieked when he saw the knife, suddenly wishing that his parent's weren't at their real estate convention for the day.

"You see, Ralph?" Roger laughed, swinging the glittering knife in his hands. Derek recognized it to be one out of many kitchen knives that had recently gone missing. Roger continued with a creepy grin. "You see what happens when you don't play along? I'll do you in, just like I did with Simon and Piggy. You'll see now, Ralph."

Who was Ralph? Derek didn't want to find out, and in a final attempt to escape his brother's hallucinations, he squirmed towards the door, but Roger reached him first. He pinned him back down and sat over his chest, making it incredibly hard for Derek to breathe. His breaths came short and rugged, and the look of fear in his eyes was sending Roger's urge amuck.

"Who's stronger now, Ralph?" Roger spat. "Where's your conch now, huh?"

"I'm...not...Ralph..." Derek said through ragged breaths. "I'm...your...brother..."

Roger smiled at him and dangled the knife carelessly over Derek's face.

"I'm not stupid, you fucking rat." Roger descended the knife on Derek's cheek, giving a perverted smile when he mercilessly sliced his brother's flesh open. Derek screamed.

"Help!" He yelled, praying that somebody heard him. "Please...help!"

"Shut up." Roger snapped, pulling his brother's head up by the tufts of his black, curly hair. "You thought you were safe from Jack 'n I, right? You thought that just because you were back home, you'd be okay. You were so wrong, Ralph. So wrong."

"I'm not Ralph!" Derek screamed. "I'm your fucking brother, Roger! It's me! Derek!"

But the sinister glow in Roger's eyes never fizzled away. Derek had known something was wrong with his brother, but _this_? Would he kill him at his own hand? Never before had Derek felt so disturbed and frightened in his life, and when his brother began to sing an old choir song in his once beautiful voice, Derek's heart withered.

_My brother's a sadist. My brother's psychotic. My brother's a murder. He belongs in fucking Hell._

"_Oh fortune, like the moon_," Roger sung, eyes eerily glazed over. "_You are changeable, ever waxing and waning._" He brought the knife down on Derek's lips, enabling him to beg any longer. "_First oppresses and then soothes. As fancy takes it, poverty and power. It melts them like ice_."

Derek's mouth hurt something awful, and although he was in too much pain to speak, he screamed like hell, aimlessly trying to writhe out from beneath his brother's clutches. Roger wouldn't budge, instead continued his song. It would usually be sung in Latin and in soprano, but Roger made it soft and eerie, more like a lullaby than the tune that was blared in movies. It was eerily cold and gentle when sang, "_Fate monstrous and empty. You whirling wheel. You are malevolent._"

"Stop!" Derek managed to slur through his pain, sending a shower of blood from his mutilated lips onto Roger. Roger only smiled.

"_Well-being is vain, and always fades to nothing. Shadowed and veiled, you plague me too; now through the game, I bring my bare back to your villainy_."

Roger's trembling grasped clutched the knife as he worked his way along Derek's face, savoring in the crude smell of blood. Derek shrieked, and Roger continued to picture Ralph in his place; bloody and no longer the handsome golden-boy everyone painted him out to be.

"_Fate is against me. In health and virtue, driven on and weighted down. Always enslaved_." At the word _enslaved_ he dug the edge of the knife into his brother's neck, smiling sickly down at the beautiful sight. "_So at this hour, without delay, pluck the vibrating strings. Since fate, strikes down the string._" He drug the knife across his brother's neck, like he was a pig ready for slaughter. Derek gurgled a few last breaths before he stopped resisting Roger and his eyes went lifeless. He became slack, light, and as the last shudder of life drifted up his spine, his soul perished.

Derek was dead, ironically, at his brother's hand.

Staring down at what looked like a beautiful masterpiece, Roger grinned.

_"Everyone weep with me_."

JOSHUA TRIED CALLING DEREK AT LEAST twenty-seven times, but he never answered. It got to the point that Joshua had memorized his voicemail memo by heart, and that's when he realized that once Derek finally saw all the missed calls, he would look like a complete weirdo.

Lazily, Joshua tossed his phone onto his bed and collapsed by it, exhausted from football practice. He still wore the dirty jersey and grass-stained pants, and although he knew he should change, he just didn't feel like it. Overwhelmed with sudden tiredness, Joshua's eyes began to drift closed, but then he heard erratic footsteps racing down the hallway and then downstairs. Cracking his eyes open, he tried to listen as he mother gasped.

"Maurice! Don't run down the stairs!"

_Maurice_? Joshua sat up.

"Mom! I have to go!" His voice sounded urgent, frightened, and terribly afraid. What could have happened? Joshua wanted to find out.

"What?" His mother asked, sounding a little panicked. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I have to go."

"It's nine 'o clock at night! Where would you be going?"

Maurice's answer was an anxious and frustrated huff. "I'm just...I just...I have to go!"

Joshua heard the front door open and shut, and then his mother was weeping.

"What's wrong with my baby?" She cried, sending a pang of guilt throughout Joshua. He knew what he needed to do, but he decided against it. Following Maurice would only lead to more suspicions.

AMY WAS HORRIFIED. There was no other word for it. She was horrified, that was simply that. Beneath her lay a horribly distorted body...a _corpse_, an actual freaking dead person. When Jack and Maurice had showed up at her house and forcefully taken Samneric and Amy, she wasn't sure what she expected. Even when Sam hesitantly asked Jack what had happened and Jack replied, "Somebody's dead,", Amy still hadn't known what to think. Had she been expecting somebody to have tripped down the stairs or perhaps drown in the pool? Maybe. But a ravenously destroyed eighteen-year-old boy with bloodied eye sockets and red-stained skin? Hardly.

Jack and Maurice stared down at the gruesome sight, then at the blood that had etched it's way across the dark grey carpet. Roger sat quietly on his bed, face splattered with his brother's blood and knife in hand. After a moment, Jack angrily turned around at him.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" He asked, blatantly gesturing to the dead boy. Amy thought she was going to faint from the sick smell of blood.

Roger shrugged. "I dunno."

"You killed your own fucking brother!"

Roger didn't reply, and instead stared down at his lap, a sick smile plastered upon his face. So he wasn't remorseful.

Samneric cowered near the door, staring down at what was once Derek Moyer. They, like their sister, were terrified, and knew this whole get-up had gone way too far.

"Jack," Sam said, his voice quivering. "I think we need to call the police."

Roger's head snapped up as did his knife, and suddenly, he fuming at the mouth.

"Call the cops, and I'll kill all of you. Right here, right now."

Sam backed up behind Eric and looked pleadingly at Jack, who was somewhat confused.

"We can't call the police,"Jack said, shaking his head. "Then we'd all be in trouble."

"But we didn't do it!" Eric said, earning himself a sharp slap on the face from his chief.

"Shut up, Brat Two! We just need to get rid of the body."

"What about the blood on the carpet?" Maurice asked quietly, speaking for the first time.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. That too."

Then both Sam and Eric vomited on accord, shortly followed by Amy and Maurice. With one look at the puke and blood drenched carpet, Jack raised his eyebrows and sighed. "I guess we'll need to clean that up too."

They had exactly three hours before Roger's parents returned from the convention.

**Cry, cry, cry! But DUN DUN DUN! What will happen? This was a very sad and dark chapter:( Feel free to leave your comments about in a review...in fact, PLEAASSEEE review because it would make my day forever! I'm starting to get the real gore of the story so get ready because it's about to get realllll sadder than this!**


	8. Let Me Take You Down

**SIDE NOTE: I'm actually a very happy person, but I can't stand typical Hollywood endings. I also write plays, and in both the plays I've written, I've refused to give them sappy endings. I give them what I call French endings, and as stereotypical as it may sound, French endings mean that it had a realistic conclusion. I'm not saying that everyone has to blow up and all romances are Romeo and Juliet, but it's realistic. There are no predictable twists and turns, Mary-Sue-marries-Good-Guy-John sort of thing. It's blatant, just as if it was real life. Just a forewarning! SOOOO, thanks for all your lovely reviews and please enjoy, the NEXT, RIVETING, NON-HOLLYWOODISH (is that a word? don't think so. oh well) CHAPTER TO BLACKBIRD SINGING IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT. Also, the product GoClean which is mentioned in this is not real. I made it up. lol. Action!**

AMY PILED IN THE CAR NEXT TO HER BROTHERS as the scent of sickly sweet blood lingered on her skin. As a punishment for throwing up, Jack had made her, Samneric, and Maurice carry out Derek's limp carcass into the trunk of the car, which luckily, was in the garage. Both Maurice and Jack could drive, but Maurice had been driving for longer and was only two weeks away from turning sixteen and getting his license, so he was the one who took Derek's car keys and ignited the engine into a low purr. Yes, learner permit's were supposed to drive with an adult, so technically, what they were doing was illegal, but murdering and dumping a body was _more_ illegal, so they tossed the other thought aside.

Jack was up front with Maurice, and Roger sat in the back with the twins and Amy. He refused to change his shirt, and kept the knife at bay, ready in case one of the more unwillingly participants tried to get away.

As the car rumbled into life, the radio switched on, and Derek's favorite CD automatically started playing. The sound of Eminem pounded through their ears, and coursed through their veins, which did no good in alleviating their anxiety. Maurice quickly turned the volume up, then slowly back out of the open garage, the thought of the dead boy in the trunk lurking in the back of his mind. In a panicked frenzy, Jack noticed how slow Maurice was going and growled.

"What's wrong with you?" He snapped, ignoring the beeping noise telling him to put on his seatbelt. "Go faster! There's a fucking corpse in the car!"

Amy started to cry again, and only sobbed further when Roger smacked her hard over her face, leaving behind a bloody handprint. Samneric's nerves boiled within them, but they remained still when they saw the relentless look in Roger's eyes. He had killed..._really_ killed, and if he could kill his own brother, he could certainly do away with any of them.

Slowly, Maurice started to speed up as his nerves got the best of him. His hands sweated on the cold steering wheel, and his nostrils were inflamed at the mixed smell of blood and cologne that was forever embedded into the fabric of the carseats from Derek. This was _Derek's_ car, and Maurice now sat where the dead boy in the truck had sat so many times before. It made Maurice ill, and when his phone buzzed, he began to become lightheaded.

Jack noticed Maurice's discomfort.

"You okay?" He asked, watching as Maurice's face drained.

Maurice nodded stiffly. "F..fine. Can you...can you get that?" He gestured to his buzzing phone, and for once, Jack obeyed. He flipped open the phone to see a message from Maurice's brother, Joshua.

_Maurice, where are you?_

Shit. Even though it wasn't Maurice's fault that his brother worried after him, Jack felt the need to blame him for Joshua's curiosity. He threw a glare at Maurice as they pulled into the Darlington Park parking lot, which was unsurprisingly empty. Maurice caught his look of disdain and gulped.

"What...what does it say?"

"It's your brother," Jack replied bitterly, snapping Maurice's phone shut. "He wants to know where you are."

Maurice didn't even finish his parking job; he simply slumped against the steering wheel and let his body succumb to the feelings inside. He felt like he was being plagued with Piggy's asthma. His lungs heaved and his breaths came short, leaving him feeling like he had just run a mile at cross country. Jack stared appalled at the driver, then shoved him gently and glared.

"Get up, douche. We have to move quick, especially now that your brother is getting suspicious." Just at the moment another message came through from Joshua, and Jack checked it without Maurice's permission.

_Is everything okay?_

A few seconds later, Joshua sent yet another.

_Do you need me to come get you_? At this one, Jack nearly exploded in anger and fear. In rush of angst, Jack threw the car door open and smashed Maurice's phone on the ground, shattering it to bits. Maurice winced at the sight, but nevertheless allowed himself to be pushed out of the car by his leader, shortly followed by the Lionel siblings and Roger. Next came the hard part.

"We have to take the body down to the lake," Jack instructed, as if he was demonstration a baseball play. To him and Roger, that's all it felt like. A baseball play.

Just to be cruel and impress his power upon the others, Jack once again forced Maurice and the twins to lug the body down towards the lake. Maurice's breathing was still off, and both the twins still felt as if they were going to rupture in anger, but nobody objected Jack. Roger and Amy idly trailed behind them, keeping a close eye out for witnesses.

The mutilated body had been covered with some old bed sheets as a poor attempt to hide it just in case they were caught. But the park was as dead as the boy; literally nothing stirred, except the eerie sound of Maurice's rugged breathing and the teenagers's footsteps along the crooked pathway. Finally, they made it down to the lake, and somewhat carelessly, they landed the body down by the bank. Maurice stood up with his hands on his hips, chest heaving in labored breaths.

"What now?" He spat at Jack, despising him for creating such a mess.

Jack thought for a minute, then turned to Roger. "We're gonna have to sink him. Did Derek keep anything heavy in his car?"

Roger reluctantly raced back over to the poorly parked car and rummaged around. When he returned, he carried a beaten up, huge history textbook and two weights Derek used to use for football training. He handed the items to Jack, who struggled to hold all three things at once. Presently, he sat them on the bank beside the sheeted body and huffed.

"Does anybody have a belt?"

His eyes had fallen on Maurice again, who grumbled and unwillingly took his black belt off, then handed it to Jack. Immediately, his pants sagged, and despite the situation, Roger laughed. In fact, Roger wanted to laugh at everything that was going on. He found it quite comical that he caused suck a ruckus.

Jack took Maurice's belt and glanced at Sam. The twin groaned and followed Maurice's obedient example, taking off his belt and handing it to the resilient leader.

Jack then took both the belts and the objects Roger had collected and tied them onto Derek's carcass. Once he was finished, he stood up straight and sighed at his tribe.

"Alright. Now all of you, we need to bring him over to the highest point of elevation and drop him into the deepest part of the lake."

Everyone grabbed hold of what used to be Derek and heaved him over to a small hill which broke off into the dark, murky water. As quietly as they could manage, they swung the weighted body down into the water, watching as it sunk lower and lower. Jack sucked in his breath, and a fascinated frown escaped Roger. He remembered once how Derek said he hated swimming, that he hated water and anything to do with it. Funny how his final resting place would be at the bottom of a lake. Again, Roger was humored by his own crime. Without another thought, he tossed in the knife he used to slay his brother and watched the glittering thing slither down to join its victim.

They piled back into the car, backs aching and covered from head to toe in mud and blood. Maurice drove them back home, and with only an hour and a half left to clean up Roger's room before his parents got home, they weren't hesitant when they fled from the car and into the Moyer house.

"My mom says to always use cold water with blood," Maurice murmured quietly upon entering Roger's room. Everyone stared in dismay down at the dirty evidence from Roger's sin.

Jack nodded in acknowledgement. "Mind does too. Samneric, go downstairs and fill a bucket with cold water."

The twins obeyed, and a few minutes later returned with Jack's request. They dumped the water on the blood and vomit, gagging at the distasteful aroma it produced.

Remembering an old commercial, Jack turned to Roger and asked, "Do you have any GoClean?"

Roger nodded and nudged his thumb towards the bathroom, where Jack found a bottle of GoClean. Having never removed a stain from carpet before, Jack dumped the whole liter bottle on the infected areas, puke and blood alike. It bubbled and added to the sick scent, but just like the commercial had promised, it got the tough stains out.

They used more water to rinse out the carpet, then threw some old beach towels over it, watching as the just of the water was absorbed. Amy flicked on the fan, and Roger gathered the portable fan from Derek's room and moved it over the wet carpet. Now that the mess was taken care of, there was the problem with their clothes.

"We'll have to burn it," Maurice continued. "I saw this on CSI once. The murderer burned his clothes and nobody ever knew he had done anything."

It was a shame to have to burn such good clothes, but the others agreed and bashfully stripped off. Amy made an effort of changing in the bathroom and without asking, she grabbed one of Roger's t-shirts that lay on the floor and put it on. When she reentered the bedroom, she added her clothes to the pile and tried to blush at the boys who stood in their underwear around her.

Roger supplied them with clothes (on account that they promised to give them back), then washed his hands and blood splattered face with bleach. The others followed, then swooped the soiled clothes into a Nike duffel bag. It was agreed that Jack would burn them.

Finally, once all the evidence was removed, and the group could disperse. Without saying goodbye, they walked their separate ways, leaving Roger alone to play Modern Warfare on his brother's Xbox. It was a more elating experience after knowing what it truly felt like to have such power over someone's life.

Thirty minutes later, the carpet had dried, and Roger's parents arrived home. They wandered into Derek's room and saw Roger playing video games, then noticed that their oldest son was nowhere to be found.

"Hey bud," Mr. Moyer greeted sitting down beside his son. He smelt of an odd mix of bleach and axe, but Mr. Moyer suspected nothing.

"Sup?"

"How you going?"

"Good." Roger smiled in spite of himself, silently laughing that the house was bare of any evidence of Derek's demise.

Mrs. Moyer sat herself down beside her husband. "Where's your brother?"

Roger's smile faltered, and he managed to look nonchalant. "Dunno."

"Did he come home from work?"

"Nope," Roger said, his eyes glued to the T.V screen. "I've been alone."

"Well, he was supposed to come home." Mrs. Moyer's dark eyes softened into concern. "Craig, do you think he's alright?"

Her husband watched as Roger made a deathly kill.

"I don't know," He admitted honestly. "He ends work at three PM. It's midnight now." He watched again as Roger made five kills in a row. "Nice one, bud."

Roger grinned.

IT WAS NEARING TWO A.M when Hailee's phone buzzed with a message from Jack. She had been asleep, but the suddenly louder-than-fireworks ringtone immediately woke her up, and sluggishly, she reached for her phone and clicked it on. The light was blinding, and after a moment of erratic blinking, her eyes adjusted and she was able to read the message.

_Can we hang out tomorrow? I really want to see you_ _3_

Hailee had a boyfriend. His name was Chase, and they had been going out for nearly two months, but never before had a text from Chase made her stomach tighten like it did now from Jack. Did she really want to get serious with Jack? Was she actually going to break up with the guy she had known for nearly ten years for some kid she met behind a movie theater? The enthralled beating of her heart told her yes.

_Okay_, She replied, happy when only seconds later, her phone went off again.

_My house_ _or yours_?

Without thinking, Hailee tiredly typed in her reply and sent it off.

_You can come over to mine._

JACK LAY IN HIS BED, snug and wrapped up in a soft blanket. He stared contently at Hailee's message, smiling to himself. Roger had made it clear where he stood with Ralph: he was ready to kill him _now_, prepared to do whatever it would take to complete their unlawful task. And from the longing twist in Jack's heart, he could tell that he too was ready to take out the enemy, and maybe even the enemy's sister. It would depend on how Jack felt at the point, and how much Hailee was like Ralph. If they only killed Ralph but Hailee held the same threats, then they wouldn't really be eliminating the barrier at all. They needed rid of all of it. Besides, maybe Hailee could help play in Ralph's torture, because after all, Jack liked to toy with his prey before he killed it. Those were his thoughts before he drifted into a long, nightmare plagued sleep.

**I think that was the ultimate creepy chapter, but I hope it's starting to become a little clearer at what's going on. If you need clarification, here's a quick summary: Derek's body was dumped in a lake, Roger's parents know Derek's missing but don't suspect their beloved youngest son, Hailee is going to break up with Chase for Jack, and Jack is plotting use Hailee against Ralph. There. I hope that's a little better. Anyways, please review because I value your advice of awesomeness to the highest degree! yayyy! Alright, I'm peacing out. BYE X**


	9. Come Together

**Hellloooo readers :) I've had a really, REALLY rough week, so sorry this took me a while to post. Again, thank you for reading, reviewing, etc...it all means the world :) Now on with spiel...I don't own any LOTF characters apart from the OC's ( not going to write all their names...) thanks! :)**

JOSHUA WOKE UP SOME TIME AROUND NOON the next day, warmly enjoying the privileges of his last summer before he was a senior. Next summer, he would be getting ready to head off to college, and that was never fun, especially for someone as thoroughly sluggish as Joshua.

He slowly arose out of bed and yawned, then quickly checked his phone, denying to himself that it was to see whether or not Derek had ever answered him. He hadn't.

Joshua pulled on a sweatshirt and brushed his teeth, then clamored down the stairs to find his family busy in the kitchen. His mother was on the phone with somebody or another, and Bridget sat at the coffee table chowing down on a bowl of cereal. Their father sat across from her, the local paper firmly in his hands as he scoured through it. Beside him was Maurice. Like Joshua, his hair was mussed and his eyes still heavy with the ailment of sleep. Apart from the normal drowsy-look Maurice got when he first woke-up, something about him looked...different. More anxious, nervous, flighty even. It was all burning in his green eyes, and if Joshua could of guessed at _any_ reason why Maurice was so different, he knew he had to do with whatever had happened last night. The way his brother disappeared and then returned with a smashed up phone at midnight...it just didn't make sense. Something was up.

Their mother had a small T.V plastered on the wall in the kitchen so she could watch _Grey's Anatomy_ while she made lunch or dinner at night. The T.V was on now, but like it usually was when their father was home, it was switched on to Channel 5 News. Daniella Briar, the main anchor, sat with a sweet-as-punch smile as she delivered her lines accordingly and enthusiastically talked about a Valedictorian who recently made it into Yale from the public high school. Joshua lazily made himself some toast and sat down next to Bridget at the table. Their mother had hung up the phone and was now gazing intently at the T.V. It wasn't until Daniella made one certain announcement that Joshua looked up from his buttered-smothered toast and began to pay attention.

_"Late last night, a very tragic incident took place on Mt. Calivar Boulevard near Burk Road. Derek Moyer, age eighteen, was discovered to be missing after he didn't return home from work."_

Joshua dropped his toast down on the floor, mouth agape. _What_?

"Mom, can you turn it up?" Joshua asked, leaning forward from his chair. His mother clicked the remote and the volume increased so that Daniella's voice was blaring.

_"When Craig and Charlotte Moyer returned back from a conference in Lancaster, they expected to find their two sons, Roger and Derek, safe from harm, but what they found was a very different scenario. Their younger son, Roger, age 15, told both his parents that Derek never came from work. According to Terry Couler, the garage's owner and Derek's boss, Derek did leave work at 3 PM yesterday, which leaves the unsolved question; if Derek left work but never returned home, what happened to him during that lonely walk from Crescent Avenue where the garage is to his house on Mt. Calivar?"_

A picture of Derek flashed across the scene, then a short clip of the Moyer's begging for people to come forward if they had any knowledge. Joshua was astounded, shocked, and terribly heart wrenched all at the same time. Something didn't add up. Joshua could tell, and he thought it had something to do with the stoic expression upon Roger's face when they quickly interviewed him.

_"What happened last night, Roger?"_ Claire Fortmeyer, a reporter, asked Roger in front of the Moyers's house.

Roger remained neutral. "_Derek never came home_."

"_Did you find that suspicious_?"

Roger shook his head. "_Thought maybe he was out with friends_."

It went like this for another five minutes, Claire firing off redundant questions and Roger indifferently answering, a pure look of annoyance in his dark eyes. What really struck Joshua was the way Maurice reacted to the story. As soon as Daniella had announced the tragic news. Maurice dropped the spoon he was holding as his face drained. He fingers were trembling to the point their father noticed something was amuck.

"You okay?" He asked, peering over the paper.

Maurice nodded, but it wasn't convincing.

"Isn't that your friend's brother?" Mrs. Carters asked somewhat indifferently.

Maurice nodded again.

Mrs. Carters whistled and shook her head. "Such a shame. He was a good looking boy, too. No wonder he probably was kidnapped."

Something about the way Maurice's eyes flashed with guilt told Joshua that Derek was indeed not kidnapped.

"Mhm," Maurice murmured, trying to regain a look of calmness. It didn't work.

"You should probably call your friend, Maurice. He'll need a lot of support through this. It must be hard, loosing his big brother. Imagine how you would feel if something happened to Joshua."

An eerie thought passed through Joshua's mind. _What if I'm next_?

No. He shook his head. After all, he couldn't be _sure_ that Roger had killed Derek, nor was he positive about what role Maurice would've played in it...

"I'm gonna go...take a shower," Maurice said suddenly, arising out of his chair.

"Call Roger!" Their mother reminded him, and Maurice sickly nodded in response before disappearing through the door. It left Joshua sitting there with that sick suspicion lurking at the back of his mind, quietly taunting him...

_Derek got too close to discovering whatever Roger and Maurice are hiding. It must be bad, whatever it is, bad enough that they need to hide it. Bad enough that they had to kill Derek, who may have gotten close to figuring it out_.

If Derek had been close to finding out the mystery, that would mean that Joshua wouldn't be that far off, and if _Derek_ had posed as a threat, so would Joshua.

He was an enemy of his own brother.

"IS THIS THE PLACE?" Christina asked her brother as they pulled up to Hailee's house. As she and Jack had agreed, he had arrived at the Andrews's house around noon. Christina had driven him, and Sophia insisted on coming. Jack wasn't sure why, but after they tried to leave without her, she sat in front of Christina's car and sobbed, refusing to move unless they allowed her to come. Now she was seated in the back of the car, gazing out at the huge house. She hadn't spoken, only stared with the same icy blue eyes as Jack. He had noticed she'd been acting strange lately, stranger than usual, that is. And she was much more conscious of what Jack was doing. That very morning, for example, when Jack burned the clothes in his backyard while his parents were out, Sophia had wandered outside and watched. Still, she hadn't said a word, only gazed with cruelly expressionless eyes. It worried Jack somewhat, but what threat could a five-year-old pose as? He was more concerned about Maurice's brother getting a little too suspicious, or even Roger becoming blood thirsty and careless. These worries plagued Jack just as they had tortured him all night, but now, his main focus was on Hailee. Hailee and Ralph.

Jack hopped out of his sister's car, surprised when a swarm of butterflies fluttered in the pit of his stomach. He knew he wasn't nervous...it was more of a great exhilaration and uncertainty. Would he see Ralph, and if he did, would Ralph recognize him? He heard Christina drive off, and slowly, he made his way up the driveway. _Ralph's_ driveway.

So this was Ralph's house. This was the place he so fondly recalled back on the island. That tire swing...yes, Jack remembered a story about that. And the long porch that stretched across most of the house...Jack also remembered Ralph describing that. Before they had been enemies, they had been friends, two boys who mindlessly spoke of the luxuries they missed, and most of the time, Ralph spoke of his home.

It suited Ralph, Jack thought to himself. From the elegant whitewashed house to the snobby, rich feeling it radiated, everything about the structure screamed _Ralph_! Hesitantly, Jack approached the door and knocked three times, then self-consciously smoothed back his hair. He heard the sound of a dog barking, then the definitive cry of, _Buddy, shut up_! Finally, Hailee opened the door, and now that Jack wasn't seeing her in the dark, he could fully drink in her appearance.

She was naturally beautiful, like her brother, and also like Ralph, she carried a natural air of confidence. Hailee wore a simple Hollister shirt that hugged her skinny frame, paired with faded jean shorts. He was shocked at how much they resembled each other, except Hailee's blonde hair was long and wavy, and instead of Ralph's athletic build, Hailee was blessed with a thin, toned torso and small hips, complete with features that made Jack's heart thud in longing. He never imagined himself being actually attracted to Ralph's sister, especially now that he could see how much they favored, but she was beautiful, no doubt about it. And from the way her dark blue eyes gleamed at Jack, he could see that she was hopelessly devoted to him. It made his head spin.

"H..hi," He stuttered, silently cursing himself for looking obviously awestruck.

She grinned, reminding Jack sickeningly of her brother.

"Hey." She smiled at him, then gestured for Jack to enter. "Come inside." He numbly did as she instructed, curiously gazing around at the various pictures and portraits that adorned the beige walls. There were two large black and white photographs, one of a four-year-old Hailee holding up a starfish, and another of three-year-old Ralph standing on the tire swing. Jack was shocked at how unnerving it was to see him, even if it was in an old picture. He was overwhelmed by the smell of lavender incense and freshly mopped floors, gaping at the glamorous furniture and wonderfully perfect interior. Jack's mother was neat, and Christina made an effort to keep the house clean, but their home was nothing compared to Ralph's lavish manor. A small gnawing of envy thundered at his heart. It wasn't fair that Ralph had a beautiful home, a gorgeous sister, and the looks every normal guy would dream of having. Jack had heard the stories - girls fell all over Ralph, that was apparent, and it made Jack angry. It made him want to kill.

"Ralph's not home," Hailee said suddenly, as if reading Jack's mind. She probably saw how uneasy he had begun to look. "He's at swimming practice."

"Oh," Jack replied, unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed. It would've been nice to scare the crap out of the ungrateful shithead again...

They were quiet for a moment until a slender and seemingly pretty woman rounded the corner from the dining room. She looked like Hailee, but her hair was cut into a short bob, and her features had begun to deteriorate with age. Even so, Jack could tell exactly who it was, and it made his stomach boil.

"Hello," Mrs. Andrews said with a smile, sweeping down the hallway and holding one bangled wrist out to Jack.

_Holy shit_, he thought, sweating. _I'm meeting his fucking mother_.

Great. It was one big Andrews family fucking reunion. As if dating Ralph's sister wasn't enough, now Jack would have to face the whole lot of them.

"Hi," Jack replied, taking Mrs. Andrews's hand in a trembling grip. She laughed in such a way that Ralph might've, and Jack's skin crawled.

"You must be Jack." Mrs. Andrews looked between the blushing Hailee and sweating boy and laughed again. "I'm Helen Andrews, Hailee's mother."

"Cool," Jack mumbled, trying his best to be polite. It was difficult considering he would be murdering this woman's son in a few days time. Obviously, she had no idea what had happened on the island, that she was meeting the boy that had once planned and still was betting on killing Ralph. Irony worked in such brutal ways.

"If there's anything you two need, just call down for me," Mrs. Andrews continued rather dismissively, waving the couple up the stairs. "Now Hailee, why don't you show Jack around? Just don't close any doors. Your father would have a fit."

"Alright," Hailee answered shyly, taking a step towards the staircase. Jack followed.

"Call down if you need me!" Mrs. Andrews said before Hailee and Jack disappeared up the grand stairs.

Jack was trembling with anxiety when they finally reached the second story. _This is where Ralph lived...this is where he __**lives**_**. **The thought was absolutely riveting.

"This is our lounge," Hailee said, taking Jack's hand and leading him into a sleek room painted grey. Her grip was warm and soft, and for some reason, it calmed Jack's bubbling nerves. His mind was clouded with Hailee for a moment, the ideas of Ralph lost. But when he saw the Xbox console and a stack of video games, he was reminded of his prey.

"Ralph's," Hailee laughed when she saw Jack gawking at Ralph's collection. "When he's not swimming, he's up here."

Jack could tell from the faint scent of Axe cologne that Ralph had been here recently. It still made his heart thud, just as if he was in a forest and catching onto a pig, because essentially, that's what he was doing. Catching onto a pig.

Hailee led Jack out of the lounge and into the 'teenage study', which contained of two desks: one for Hailee, and one for Ralph. Hailee's desk was neatly organized with pretty little trinkets and girly photos. Ralph's was amuck, which made Jack smile just a little bit. Even Golden Boy was messy.

Finally, Hailee tugged Jack into her room, which was painted a dark, chocolate brown and garnished in lime green. Everything about it seemed to suit Hailee's character, and from the way she stared around proudly, he could tell it was something she adored.

"Nice room," Jack commented, using some enthusiasm for the first time all afternoon. Hailee grinned.

"Thanks. Took forever to decorate."

Someone called Hailee from downstairs, and presently, she sighed and nodded at Jack.

"I'll be right back. You can just chill in here. Feel free to look around." With that, the blonde girl exited her room and left Jack alone. Finally, he was left to complete the work Roger had made him promise he would do. Jack left Hailee's sweet smelling room and wandered idly down the hall, ignoring the sound of Mrs. Andrews talking to Hailee from downstairs. He sauntered past the family portrait and freshly cleaned bathroom until he reached the very end of the hall and stopped beside a room. The door was cracked open, but already Jack sensed it was the room he had been looking for. Through a breath of air, Jack pushed open the door and peered in.

Ralph's room was perfect, too collectively perfect that it made Jack want to kill him more. He immediately recognized some of the organizing techniques Ralph had pursued on the island from the way his room was prepared. His bed was neatly made-up, and unlike the desk in the study, the desk in his room was neat and cleared off. The floor was vacuumed and bare of dirty clothes, and even the books that were cramped on a shelf were placed in order from tallest to shortest. It was OCD galore, and although Ralph hadn't seemed the one to be extremely picky about organization, from the state of his room, Jack had new thoughts that he was. But it wasn't Jack's job to inspect Ralph's cleanliness. No, Roger had sent him there with one purpose, and that was to learn anything about Ralph that could benefit his predators.

Jack quietly moved over towards Ralph's closet, and feeding into the joke Roger continued to pun against him, he started to check his drawers for some sort of weakness, or maybe a journal. He searched between his neatly folded shirts and found nothing, then continued to look through his pants. There was nothing, not even a scrap of paper that indicated anything about Ralph. He then moved on towards his desk and found it unsurprisingly barren. So far, Ralph had showed to truly have moved on from the island, but that was before Jack checked under the bedside table.

Jack reached under it and book hidden under a pair of socks. He pulled it out, gazed in amusement, then flipped it open. It was filled with Ralph's neat print, curling over dates and scrawled thoughts. Jack read in anticipation.

_June 8th_

_Mom says writing my thoughts down will help me get over the island. Honestly, I don't know what bothers me the most, the fact that I still have nightmares about murdering Simon, Piggy's bloodied brains, or the way everyone expects us all just to move on. I haven't spoken to anyone. I don't want to. They're all douches, and I hate them all for what they did. Maurice, Bill, Daniel, Robert, Roger, Harold, Jack...all of them_.

The sight of Jack's name scribbled in Ralph's hasty handwriting sent a chill of exhilaration through his body. So did Ralph did remember. He flipped a few pages and read again.

_July 13_

_I had another nightmare last night. I was back on the beach and they were chasing me, faces painted and eyes bright with bloodlust. I was sprinting as fast as I could, but no matter how fast I ran, they ran faster. I tripped over a branch sticking up out of the sand, and I heard the twins screaming at me to keep going. I looked beside me and saw Simon, beaten and torn and limbless, like a hunk of charred flesh. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and mournfully, he turned to me and sucked in his breath, like he was still alive. To my other side was Piggy, his head bashed open and blood staining his sunburned skin. He opened his eyelids to empty sockets, then gurgled a few unintelligible words. They looked and reeked of death, but somehow, they were clinging onto life. Then Jack was standing over me, eyes ablaze again, and as a smile crept upon his painted face, he brought a spear down on my leg, piercing the flesh. It hurt like hell, and suddenly, they were all following his example, even Samneric. I was begging for mercy but they showed no remorse as they bloodied my body. Roger was looming in the distance, a spear sharpened at both ends strong in his hand. I was a pig, and they were slaughtering me. It made me want to die, and I think I did. I died just before I woke up._

Similarly to the dream version of Jack, the real Jack smiled, his sharp teeth glowing in the dim light of Ralph's room. He was surrounded by Ralph - his smell, his clothes, his possessions, and now his thoughts. To Jack's pure glee, Ralph was still petrified of him, and no matter how much the twins tried to convince him and Roger that Ralph had moved on, he knew now that he truly hadn't. The only reason Ralph refused to make contact with any of them was because he was still afraid and scarred by the memories from the island. That was all Jack needed to know, but even so, he wanted to try to take Ralph's journal to show Roger. Besides, there'd be tons more things in it that they could use for Ralph's demise.

"What are you doing?" Hailee was leaning against the door, a bored smirk upon her flawless face. Jack jumped back and dropped the journal, flushing in embarrassment.

"I...I was just...just..."

"Creeping on my brother?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

Her blunt accuracy made Jack want to scream.

"No!" He insisted, kicking the journal back under the table before Hailee noticed it. "I thought this was...was...was the bathroom."

"Did you?"

"Honest." Jack made an X over his heart and tried to look as innocent as possible.

Hailee looked dubious of Jack's claim. In a hurry to win her trust back over, Jack arose and approached her, then firmly pressed his lips against hers. At first she tried to draw back, so Jack held her there and pried her delicate mouth open with his own. At that point, she gave into him, presently falling against his body and letting his lips melt to hers. His plan had worked; she lost all thoughts about Ralph and was consumed by Jack. He pressed her against Ralph's wall and drew her small hips to his, making her gasp in alarm.

"What are you doing?" She asked, rather breathlessly. Jack just grinned and tilted his head towards her neck, going straight for the love bite.

Once again, she asked, "What are you doing?"

Jack raised his lips from her soft skin for a moment and whispered, "When people ask you who gave you this mark, tell them it was your chief." He continued to suck against her neck, creating a bruise. Something about the possessive tinge to his tone made Hailee shiver, but she brushed it off and laughed.

"My chief?" She said through a soft giggle. What a strange character this Jack was! "Alright, _Chief_."

She hadn't known at the time, but the sound of Hailee calling Jack _Chief_ sent him into ecstasy. He pressed his body closer to hers, hating himself for the fact that he actually _like_d Hailee.

"If only you had been with us," He slurred against her, referring to the island. Hailee didn't understand what he meant.

"What?"

Jack ignored her and continued. "...He would have never objected my power, never stopped me from ruling." And it was true. If Hailee had been on the island with them and was still as infatuated with Jack as she was now, Jack knew Ralph would've surrendered to his power. He would've thought it to be his brotherly duty; to protect Hailee. Jack also knew that this scenario applied now. It would be so much easier to kill Ralph with Hailee swooning under Jack's grasp.

Their lips met again as a pulse of undying elation coursed through Jack. With an experienced hand, his slid his fingers down from Hailee's shoulder and onto the curve of her shirt, laughing when Hailee smiled. But then there was a noise from downstairs - the front door opened and closed, and a voice called out.

"Mom, I'm back from practice!"

Ralph's voice drifted up the staircase and into the awaiting ears of Jack. He froze, but Hailee kept kissing him, completely unfazed by her brother's presence.

_Of course_, thought Jack. _She thinks I just wanted to beat him up because of a girl. She doesn't know about the island. She doesn't know that I was there with him_...

Ralph was climbing the stairs, and unconsciously, Jack was panicking. If Ralph revealed the truth, this would all be over...everything...

Ralph walked casually down the hallway, and Hailee didn't even seem to care. When Jack tried to draw back from her, she pressed herself against him and caressed his lips with her own. Jack waited and waited and then...

"_Jack_?"

Ralph was standing in the doorway, mouth agape, blonde hair dripping with water from his swim practice. He looked moderately the same, complete with the athletic structure and handsome face, but of course, he looked a bit healthier. Sucking up his fear, Jack pulled away from Ralph's giggling sister, wiped his mouth, and smiled.

"Hello, Ralph."

**Hope that was good! My mojo has been kind off this week for...er...other reasons, but I hope that this didn't let you down! Feel freeeeee to review (but please be nice haha) and I will respond to any of your amazing questions as well :) Thanks for reading! Love you all! Buhbye xx**


	10. Take A Sad Song and Make It Better

**Sorry this took a while...I was having a horrid case of writer's block! I swear, that stuff is worse than the flu. It's like staring at a blank screen, waiting for the words to fall from your fingertips, but nothing happens. Ugh I hate that haha Well, here's the next chapter for Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night. Thank you so much for reviewing...you have no idea how much it brightens my entire day :) So, on with the drab speech...I don't own any of the wonderfully amazing LOTF characters, just the OC's. Enjoy :)**

THE TWO BOYS STARED AT EACH OTHER FOR A MOMENT, unsure whether to lunge and attack or contain themselves on account of Hailee's presence. Ralph glanced between Jack and his sister, noticing the bruise that had formed upon her neck. It made him sick to know what Jack had been doing with Hailee in _his_ room. How did he even meet her? How could Ralph not have known about it? It made his head throb in confusion and anger.

"What the fuck are you doing in _my_ house?" Ralph hissed, and after taking a look around his room, added, "In my _room_?"

Jack remained completely collected. He needed to keep Ralph calm in order to restrict their suspicion.

"Just paying my dues," Jack replied nonchalantly. "How's your girlfriend?"

Ralph's eyebrows furrowed at the random question. "What?"

"You know," Jack said coolly, leaning up against the wall beside Hailee. "Meygan, the girl we got into a fight over." His eyes gleamed. "Because _that's_ how we know each other, right, Ralph?"

Ralph wasn't catching on. "What are you on about?"

"We met because of Meygan," Jack said, nodding along to his words. Ralph _had_ to get what he was saying. "We met because of her. You broke Meygan and I up, and we went through a little tiff."

Finally, Ralph caught on and recognized what Jack was doing. _He hasn't told Hailee about the island, and he doesn't want her to know_. A cruel thought assembled in Ralph's mind, and with a bitter smile, he stepped forward and laughed.

"Really? That's not how I remember it."

Hailee glanced between the two boys, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment and her eyes wide with interest. What was going on?

Jack's expression had hardened into something icy.

"Well, that's exactly how it happened." Jack's glare read, _You better not say anything_.

It only drove Ralph forward.

"I remember us meeting somewhere in the middle of the oce-"

"Let's talk for a minute," Jack growled, taking Ralph roughly by the arm and dragging him into the study. Hailee was left in her brother's room, dumbfounded and utterly confused, her mind aching as she tried to piece what she had just witnessed together.

Once the two boys entered the room, Jack slammed the door shut and shoved Ralph up against the wall.

"Are you fucking crazy?" He snarled, baring each and every tooth at his enemy. Ralph remained somehow stoic, reflecting none of the fears he expressed in his journal.

"Are you?" He retorted back, pushing Jack away and glaring. "You come into _my_ house with _my_ sister, then make-out with her in _my_ room. What's your fucking problem?"

"I didn't know she was your sister!" Jack exclaimed, lying once again. Likewise, Ralph didn't buy it.

"Don't you dare try to feed that shit to me," He said with such a cold expression, it made Jack want to slit his throat then and there. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything," Jack hissed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I met your sister and we really clicked-"

"Bullshit." Ralph's dark blue eyes thundered like the hurricane clouds that had once plagued the boys on the island. "Be straight with me, Merridew. What do you want?"

A catty smile spread across Jack's face. Lies meant nothing to Ralph, but he knew one thing that might change his opinion.

"I don't want you to tell your sister how you and I really met," Jack said, quite plainly. Ralph's expression didn't change.

"Why shouldn't I?" He asked, waving his hands about. "She's my sister, and I don't want some douchebag like you knocking her up or something. Then we'll both be stuck with you forever."

_Not if I kill you first_, Jack thought to himself, making his smile spread wider.

"You will tell her nothing," Jack demanded. "Or else."

The cliche line threw Ralph over the edge. He couldn't help but laugh at Jack's definitiveness.

"Or else what?" Ralph sneered. "What are you gonna do, huh?"

_Put your head on a stick_, Jack thought again, glaring at Ralph's damp blonde hair. He couldn't wait for the day when the latest news story was on Ralph, when his picture was plastered in places nobody would ever find them.

"Your sister really trusts me," Jack said a dead tone, getting straight to the point. The only way to keep Ralph quiet until the time came to kill him was to threaten him with his own sister. "She'd do anything I tell her to. She even broke up with her boyfriend."

Ralph's reaction pleased Jack. His face drained, and suddenly he wasn't the fifteen-year-old boy home from swim practice, but a weak, broken leader surrounded by his perpetrators. His blue eyes widened, his lips fell apart, and then, he was begging.

"You wouldn't," Ralph said slowly, understanding Jack's unspoken but implied threat on Hailee.

Jack wickedly grinned. "I would."

A brief though crossed Ralph's mind. He knew that Jack remained in touch with all of his old hunters, and Jack was right. It'd be easy for him to get Hailee alone, and if he got her at the right moment...Ralph shuddered.

"Fine," Ralph said softly, loathing himself for succumbing to Jack. "We met because of Meygan."

Jack smiled to himself as they exited the room. Ralph suspected nothing of his own demise. He was too focused on Hailee, on doing the heroic thing, just like he always was. There were drawbacks to being a Golden Boy, Jack realized. Big drawbacks.

Hailee approached them hesitantly, unsure whether or not to be happy or puzzled. She decided on a medium.

"Is everything okay?" She asked them both, trying her best to be the peacemaker. It took everything in Jack not to roll his eyes. _Just like her brother_...

"Yeah," Ralph said quickly, averting his gaze from the both of them. "It's fine. He just had to remind me who he was. I had...forgotten about that whole thing with Meygan."

"Oh," Hailee said, nodding along. "But you're alright now...?"

"Absolutely," Jack said cheerily, grinning. "No bad feelings between us at all."

Ralph sharply looked up at Jack, his eyes burning with a skeptical gaze. Did Jack mean that.._really_ mean that? He wasn't sure.

"Yeah," Ralph agreed slowly. "No bad feelings."

The boys nodded at each other, and Hailee awkwardly smiled at both of them.

"Alright then," She said quietly, waiting for Ralph to split so she could be with Jack again. After all, he had left her _breathless_.

"I guess I'll go help Mom downstairs," Ralph mumbled before he turned and left, paying one last glance at Jack, who smiled warmly back at him. Sucker.

Once the fair haired boy was gone, Jack turned suavely to Hailee and put on a seductive smile.

"So, where were we?" He murmured, leaning in and brushing his lips against her earlobe. He felt her warm skin flush before she leaned in and melded their mouths together once again.

IT WAS THREE 'O CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON WHEN Heather first learned of Derek's disappearance. She was clearing up the dishes with Ruth, who now made daily visits. Usually, she would bring lunch - beautiful, gourmet meals varying from fluffy, sweet treats to spicy, exotic meals. Today it had been some kind of desert, and Heather had just turned up the radio to her favorite song when it was suddenly interrupted by an emergency broadcast.

"_We've just been informed on the case of Derek Moyer,_" The host spoke gruffly into the mic, hushing the song. Heather froze, her limbs literally unable to move. The host went on. "_Police are officially calling an alert on the eighteen-year-old boy who was discovered missing after he never returned home from work late yesterday afternoon..._"

Heather unconsciously dropped the china dish she was holding as her hands trembled frantically. Ruth spotted her from across the room and rushed over to the child, catching her just as she collapsed.

"Heather!" She breathed, trying to keep the girl's chest leveled, as if she had asthma. It had become a habit from when her nephew would go into asthmatic fits.

Heather rigidly spoke. "I...I knew him."

Mrs. Waterford sauntered into the kitchen and saw her wan daughter, then quickly ducked down next to her and collected her in her arms. Ruth moved away, staring worriedly at Heather.

"You knew who?" Mrs. Waterford asked, holding her daughter next. "What happened?" Her son, Simon, commonly fainted, but it was rare for Heather. In fact, to Mrs. Waterford's knowledge, Heather _never_ had fainted, but at that moment, she looked close to it.

Ruth answered in a soft voice. "They just announced an alert on a missing boy. Heather says she knew him."

A dark, dismal mood dawned on the three ladies, knocking the breath from Mrs. Waterford's lungs and sending Ruth back into sobs. It all reminded her too much of Angus...

"Oh my darling," Mrs. Waterford whispered, pulling her daughter closer and stroking her long, silken curls. "I'm so sorry."

Heather clutched her mother close. Warm tears trickled down her cheeks, but surprisingly, it wasn't _really _because of Derek. She had barely known him. The true thing that was haunting her was the story _behind _what happened to Derek...speaking of which, what _had_ happened to Derek? Like Joshua, Heather had a sinking feeling it had something to do with those boys from the island. More so, she thought it might've had to do with the fact that she had spoken to Derek. After all, was it just a strange coincidence that he had 'disappeared' right after they'd met in that alleyway? Heather didn't think so. She knew what she had to do, and she had to do it soon.

"I have to go," Heather murmured, pulling away from the warm embrace of her mother and wiping her tear-stained face. Both Ruth and Mrs. Waterford looked doubtful.

Heather's mother raked back her long hair and sighed. "Heather, I don't think that's a good idea-"

"_Mom_." Heather grabbed her mother's wrist and stared with hard, cold eyes. "I _have_ to go. You don't understand."

There was something about the urgency in her daughter's voice that set Mrs. Waterford's alarms off. Something was wrong.

"Heather," She said slowly, frowning. "Is everything alright?"

Heather arose without another word. Her mother stared in fright.

"Heather," She said again, more insistent. "Are you alright?"

Heather grabbed her cell phone off the counter and slipped into a pair of Converse. "I have to go."

"Heather!"

"I'll be back later!"

"Heather Grace Waterford, you will not leave this house-" Mrs. Waterford was cut off by the sound of the front door slamming and the sudden absence of her daughter. She was gone, and Mrs. Waterford had absolutely no idea where she went. Ruth came up behind the woman and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, her small eyes melting in empathy.

"Let her go," She said softly. "We're grieving in different ways."

Truth be told, Mrs. Waterford wasn't sure that Heather was grieving at all.

JOSHUA SAT UNCOMFORTABLY ACROSS from Maurice on the sofa, constantly caught between the blaring television set and the cold, stoic expression of his brother. From what Joshua had observed, Maurice was slowly deteriorating into nothing. At home, he said nothing, did nothing, and made no acts of portraying anything besides nothing. He had made no act of kindness towards any of his old friends, and seemed to have lost all moods except the severe graveness he carried at that moment. Maurice was nothing, like a mountain slowly being carved away by the wind. The only problem was, Joshua couldn't seem to figure out who or what the wind was, and why they were so set on eroding Maurice to the bare bone.

He wasn't sure how to act around Maurice anymore, and he certainly didn't feel the brotherly love that was so obvious before. In fact, he didn't feel like they were brothers at _all_. For all he knew, Maurice and his friends would kill him just as they killed Derek, or at least just as Joshua _thought_ they killed Derek. He wasn't certain, but he was pretty sure.

Maurice, on the other hand, thought of similar issues, but from a different perspective. He didn't know that his brother suspected anything of him, but Joshua had been rather nosy lately, which gave Maurice a bad vibe. Roger and Jack already made it clear where they stood with intervention; Derek's death served to prove this. Joshua's concern for Maurice angered Jack, so much that he spoke to Maurice about it. It nearly took an hour and a half to calm the angry chief down, but Maurice finally convinced him that Joshua didn't give a shit about what they did, that Joshua was just trying to be a good big brother. Since then, Jack hadn't asked anymore about Joshua, but Maurice knew that if his brother continued to be so persistent with his activities, Jack would take action against him, and there would be nothing in the world that Maurice could do to stop him.

The piercing sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted the NFL Sports Newcaster's speech. Both brothers glanced at each other, hoping the other would volunteer to get the door. But neither one did, so eventually, Joshua huffed and shook his head.

"I did the dishes. You get the door."

Begrudgingly, the auburn headed boy arose and walked slowly towards the door, leaning over to fix his socks. He looked messy wearing only a black t-shirt and grey basketball shorts, but he hardly cared. That is, until he opened the door to see _her_.

She was by far the most beautiful creature Maurice had ever laid his eyes on. The girl who stood at Maurice's front door was slight and petite, with dark, wavy hair and rich, wide eyes that were shadowed by thick eyelashes. She was naturally tan and thin, with very few flaws or noticeable blemishes. The girl was dressed casually - just a sweater, jeans, and a pair of bright blue Converse. She didn't look very strong, nor did she seem to be the kind of easy, flirty girl Maurice would usually go for, but she..._she_ was beautiful.

Suddenly conscious of his unruly hair and unbrushed teeth, Maurice stammered on his words. "H...hi."

"Hello." Her voice was soft, nearly a whisper. Who was she?

"Do you need something?" He asked, then paused to rephrase his question. After all, it sounded much too overbearing. "I mean, do you I know you?" _Damn it, now I sound like an ass, _he thought, yet again reconsidering his words. "I _meant_, what are you doing-"

"I'm looking for Maurice Carters," She said, ignoring his pathetic attempt at sounding polite. She didn't give him time to answer when she added, "I was referred here by a...friend."

Mild curiosity washed over Maurice, and the giddy butterflies in his stomach were replaced by intrigue.

"Yeah?" He asked, leaning against the frame of the door. "Which friend 'referred' you to me?" Maurice smirked at the way she shifted uncomfortably and blushed, but those dark eyes never left his.

"Um..." The girl was lost for words, as if deciding whether or not to tell him. Finally, she sighed and met his gaze.

"My name is Heather Waterford," she said, noticing the way Maurice nearly jumped out of his skins when he heard the name _Waterford_. "And the friend that told me to come here is..._was_ Derek Moyer."

Maurice's face drained, and all of the sudden, his heart was pounding so irritably slowly against his chest that he was sure she could hear it. Sweat had accumulated along his brows, and his once sturdy build was trembling all over. Did she just say...just say...

"Derek Moyer?" He asked thickly, his head spinning back to that god awful night. Derek's mutilated corpse, Jack and Roger's solemnity, the horrible car ride, the way that they had sunk...yes, _sunk_ the body to the bottom of the lake, cleaning up the mess...

A small smile flashed upon Heather's face. "Yes. I thought you might know him. He was one of your friend's brother, right? Roger? You sang in choir together." She paused and licked her lips, going in for the kill. "Did you happen to catch my last name? Waterford. Sound familiar?"

Maurice squeezed his shut, refusing himself to remember the wicked, elating dance back on the island. _Waterford_. Yes, it did sound familiar, and the memory that did come to Maurice was surprisingly not of the island at all. It was back at boarding school in the choir room. The black, plastic chairs and matching music stands were scuttled about - the boys never kept the room tidy - and Jack was up front, trying his best to contain his reprobates. Maurice remembered that day like it was only a few moments ago. It happened to be the only day that the boys had decided to goof off, more even that Jack finally gave in and let them. Roger had sat on the edge of the stairs, smoking a cigarette that he had smuggled from home. Robert was up on one of the chairs playing the air-guitar, singing his heart out to American Idiot. A small clan of interested boys sat below him, waving their hands about like it was a real concert. Maurice remembered that he and Bill - yes, they had been good friends back then - had been with Jack, playing a basic game of cards. Oh yes, that had been an interesting one, but the thing that stood out most to Maurice now was what Simon had been doing. Simon...Simon _Waterford_ had been sitting quietly in a black, plastic chair and was reading a book, minding his own business entirely. Nobody spoke to him, and he spoke to nobody. If Maurice could go back, he would've joined Simon instead of further entangling himself in what would become a crazed killer.

Heather knocked Maurice out of his day dream.

"You killed my brother," She said, shattering the sweet memory of that day back in choir practice. Maurice had to lean against the door so he wouldn't crumple down at her words.

"No," He said hoarsely, wanting so badly to believe his own words. "I didn't-"

"Yes you did." Her eyes were vivid, bright, relentless. "You and Roger and Jack and the rest of them. You killed him, just like you killed Derek."

Maurice's face fell.

"I didn't kill Derek!" He exclaimed, closing the door so Joshua wouldn't hear him.

Heather looked sarcastically dubious.

"Yes, you did. And you killed Simon, and Angus-"

"Angus?"

"Angus Bayler. He was on the island."

_Piggy_, Maurice thought off-handedly. He hadn't killed Piggy. That had been Roger's doing. And he hadn't killed Derek. That also had been Roger's fault. But still, he was responsible for the death of Simon, and to Heather, that truly was the only one that mattered.

"Look," He started, hating himself all over again. "I'm sorry, but I didn't-"

"Shut up and listen!" Her boldness surprised Maurice, so much it willed him to be silent. Then she continued. "You are a murderer, so you might as well face it soon. And I'm not going to stop until I give Derek, Angus, and Simon justice. You can either help me or hate me. Quite frankly, I don't care. I just wanted you to know that I exist, and that your frolics on the island affected more people that just yourself." With that, the girl turned away, her dark curls swinging in time with her head. Just as she was leaving, Maurice stumbled out to her.

"Wait!" He called. "Please...wait."

She stopped and with a huff, turned to face Maurice. "What now?"

"I want to help you," He said, his voice shaken. "I don't...I don't want to be bad anymore."

Heather's hard expression melted upon seeing Maurice's sad, sad gaze.

"Go on," She said softly. And he did.

"I feel like there's this monster inside me," He continued, surprised at how brutally truthful he was being. "And no matter what I try to say and do, it keeps gnawing at me, you know? Like a rat inside my heart..._that's_ how it feels. Like there's a rat gnawing through my heart. I didn't kill Piggy...I mean, Angus, and I didn't kill Derek, but I helped cover their murders up, and that's just as bad. But I did...I did..." He cut himself off, unable to say the words, unable to see the devastated look on Heather's face. But when he looked up, she didn't look angry or heart wrenched...no she looked as thought she pitied him. So he went on. "Simon's gone, and I feel honestly terrible about it. I feel like the very monster that I was afraid of, and I feel dirty, low, and bad. But I want to change. I want to be me again. Just...normal. I don't want to be friends with Jack or Roger. I don't even like them. I want my old friends back and my old life back. I'm just so scared, y'know, that if I break away, they'll do something to my brother or my little sister. I don't know what to do, but I...I want to help you. I want to be good again."

During this monologue, Maurice had reached out his hands to her, and everything about him screamed _Help me_! He was begging, Heather realized. Begging for her to help him, begging for her to let him help her.

That's when Heather realized something that she never thought was possible. She forgave him, forgave him for everything he had done, forgave him for slewing her brother. And suddenly, she felt better.

"Okay," She muttered quietly, meeting his eyes and nodding. "That'd be...that'd be nice."

Something inside both Heather and Maurice changed that day.

**Hope that appeased you guys :) Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up sooner than this...sorry for the delay, by the way. Please, please, PLEASE review and I will love you all forever (jk, I already love you all forever...but still, please review!). Thanks! :)**


	11. Blackbird Fly

**Hello beautiful people(: I was having an 'ehh' day but then my best friend brought me a cake and now my whole week will be awesome :) Ahh, the power of friendship and baked goods(: Speaking of baked goods, any Hunger Games fanatics out there? What do you think of the Catching Fire casting? Just wonderingg! Sorry, I'm rambling. Well, here comes the good ol' disclaimer: I do NOT own any of the LOTF characters, because of course, I'd have to be William Golding to do that, and sadly, I am not. If I was, I wouldn't be writing a fanfiction:) Please enjoy! OH thank you for uur lovely reviews :) Please leave a review (even uu silent readers) to make me even more happy than I already am :) Thanks!**

THE NEXT DAY, HEATHER WOKE UP, feeling somewhat lighter than usual. It had nothing to do with her weight, but her spirit instead. Meeting Maurice had changed her, changed her for the better. He was sorry, _truly_ sorry for Simon's death. He was sincere, and like Heather, wanted to bring justice upon those who didn't feel the same way. He wanted to be pure again, good again, and Heather wanted to be the one to help him.

She checked the time on her phone. _9:00_. She still had plenty of time before she had to meet Maurice again at 10:00. They were meeting at Darlington Park - Heather wasn't sure why - but Maurice was 100% keen on seeing her there. Maybe it was because he likes the outdoors. Maybe it was a darker reason. All Heather knew was that she yearned to find out.

Heather brushed out her long hair and threw it into a French braid, pinning it with her favorite clip. She put on a little make-up - only mascara and a bit of eyeliner - before changing out of her pajamas and into a pair of jeans, flip-flops, and a button up silken shirt.

Her mother didn't question Heather when she raced down the stairs and out the front door at 9:45. She figured that Heather was grieving in her own way, and all this alone time was just her daughter's method of getting over the death of Simon. Still, she was worried, and paid extra close attention to how hasty her daughter seemed to be.

Darlington Park was only a ten minute walk away from Heather's house. She knew this because when they had been little, her mother used to take Simon and Heather there all the time, nearly every day, to be precise. Before Simon's death, the two siblings still ventured down there sometimes just to hang out, and even when Simon had been sent away to boarding school, Heather still made the daily trips to the park alone. But after his death, she couldn't bare to set foot on the pretty little park where she shared so many fond memories of her brother. In all honesty, she didn't want to go there now, but she was doing it anyway for Maurice, because she pitied him and knew the location must be important.

Heather arrived at the park around 10:00, and reluctantly entered its perimeter. Everything was just how she remembered it, from the empty playground to the twittering birds. Like usual, the place was barren of people, save one boy who lingered by an old park bench, his auburn head bent down to look at his shoes. Heather surprised herself by smiling when she saw him, and the single name clouded her mind: _Maurice._

"Hey," She called, catching up next to him. The pine needles crunched under her feet.

Maurice looked up, and his lips parted slightly at his reply. "Hey."

He was just as handsome as she, with his brown hair and bright, entrancing green eyes. The was a splatter of freckles along the bridge of his nose, some of which were fading with age. He had a strong jaw, a muscular build, but the sweetest look a boy could give. She noticed he was carrying a beat up Yankees baseball cap, and when she reached him, he pulled it up over his head, still not smiling.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Heather wiped the smile from her face and returned to familiar solemnity, unsure of how to be around Maurice. She glanced around the park and nodded. "I haven't been here in ages."

"Yeah?" He looked relieved that she was making conversation with him.

Heather nodded again. "I used to come here all the time, but then I...I stopped."

Maurice pulled the cap over his eyes and sighed.

"Well, it's not very safe here anymore. I wouldn't come here alone if I were you."

His words struck her in the exact way he had intended them. A warning.

"What?" She asked dumbly, staring at the fifteen-almost-sixteen-year-old.

"I wanna show you something," He said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and nudging his head towards the lake. "C'mon."

She followed him, but kept her phone at bay just in case it was all a ploy. She wasn't sure what to expect, and despite her trust in Maurice, she couldn't ignore the twinge of fear that something bad was about to happen. He led her down the winding path, not offering to hold his hand out to her when she stumbled along. He was being blunt, which worried Heather, much different in comparison to the boy she had met yesterday.

Suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face her. His green eyes shone with vivid intensity, so much that it made Heather's heart thud.

"Can you keep a secret?" He asked, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper.

Heather couldn't speak, so she nodded.

Maurice still seemed skeptical. "You promise?"

She nodded, but he shook his head.

"Say the words," he pressed on, taking a step closer to her. "Tell me that you promise. Give me your word."

"I promise," Heather whispered, staring into those green eyes.

Finally satisfied, Maurice went on. "What do you know about Derek Moyer?"

Heather stumbled on her words. "His brother is...is Roger, and he was like...I dunno...eighteen, and he...he went missing." She flushed when she saw that Maurice's expression hadn't changed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Heather frowned at him. "Why?"

"What do you think happened to him?"

"What?"

"How do you think he went missing? Be honest."

Heather hesitated before she finally sighed and gave in.

"I think Roger killed him," she finally announced, unsure of what to expect. For all she knew, Roger and Jack were hiding in the bushes waiting for her words, waiting to attack. She was anticipating for them to jump out from somewhere, but nothing came. Just the cool wind winding its way through Heather's messy braid and the bitter smile that had appeared on Maurice's face.

Wickedly, he said, "You're right."

Heather felt like the wind had been knocked out from under her. She was _right_?

"What?" She gasped, suddenly dizzy. "He killed his...his brother?"

"Yep." Maurice looked sickly disgusted. "He did. Without even wincing."

"H...how?"

"Slit his throat," Maurice murmured, shaking his head. "Then forced us to clean up his mess."

"You...you _helped_?"

"I didn't kill him!" Maurice said quickly, his green eyes wide and sad. "But Jack...he made us get rid of the evidence, y'know? He made us help clean up Roger's sins." He stopped himself, then idly kicked a stick on the ground and chewed on his lip. "Jack 'n Roger forced me and a...a few other guys to carry the body out to Derek's car, ironically. Then he made _me_ drive, and after we got here..."

"Here?"

"Yes," Maurice replied. "Here. After we got here, Jack made me and the same boys carry Derek out over there where we disposed of him. Then we had to clean up the mess back home. Shit, there was so much fucking blood..."

Heather was speechless. Her words were caught somewhere between her tongue and her mind, jumbled on the path down. Her fear was replaced by horror, and her horror was a putrid mix of disgust and pity for the boy who stood before her. He stomped on the stick and looked back up at Heather, eyes watering and wide.

"I saw a fucking dead body," He said bluntly, throwing Heather off. "I mean, I saw...you know...on the island, but here...it was so _real_, so raw. I've showered at least ten times more than I usually do since then, but no matter how much I try, I can't wash it off."

"Wash what off?" Heather asked timidly. Maurice looked frustrated.

"The blood and the guilt. Sure, I didn't kill the guy, but I didn't go to the police about it either."

"Why not?" Heather asked desperately, clinging onto the hope that she could help him overcome this new fear. "It's not too late-"

"No!" Maurice hissed, shaking his head. "I can't go to the police. Don't you see? Roger and Jack will find me before I could even step foot in a station. They'll kill me just like they killed the rest of them, and they'll do away with everyone I love as well. They'll do the same to you if you go to the police. You can't tell anyone about this, Heather..._I mean it._" His gaze was fervently fierce that it scared her into nodding.

"Alright," She complied. "No police."

They were silent for a moment before Maurice nudged his head towards the lake and started walking. "I still have to show you something."

Heather was scared, plain and simple. Scared of what she might find beneath the green eyes and baseball cap.

They rounded past the lake until they reached the hill that cascaded down towards the deep lake, the very hill on which Derek's body was heaved into the water. Maurice and Heather stood there for a moment, staring down into the murky lake, listening as a blackbird twittered in a nearby tree.

"We threw him down there," Maurice said over the quiet sound of the wind, pointing down into the lake. "We sunk him."

Heather felt ill. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned her head to look at Maurice. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you said you needed my help," He replied, shrugging and averting his gaze. "I'm telling you what you need to know, but you'll also have to handle it carefully."

"Handle what carefully?"

"How you deal with Jack and Roger. You can't go to the police. You have to think with wits."

"Maurice," Heather said his name quietly. He met her gaze at the sound of her soft voice.

"Yeah?"

"What's the real reason you told me? I mean, sure, it helps a bit, but you barely know me yet. Why did you tell me about Derek?" The look in her eyes resembled Simon so greatly that it pained Maurice to even meet them.

With a vanquished sigh, Maurice turned away from the lake and focused on the blackbird that situated itself on a branch hanging over the great body of water.

"I've been holding all these thoughts inside of me," he admitted, listening as the bird sung. "I can't tell my psychologist, I can't tell my family, all my friends are murderers and...and...I needed to vent. I can't leave it festering in me any longer."

The blackbird cocked its small head at Maurice, as if examining him, then unfolded its mighty wings and swooped down over the lake and far away. Maurice grimly shook his head.

"See? Even the fucking bird knows I'm crazy."

Heather came up beside Maurice and gently touched his elbow. "You're not crazy."

"I am," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut as a tear rolled down his cheek. "I'm crazy."

Her fingers glided down from his elbow to his wrist, setting his skin ablaze from where she had touched him. She squeezed his wrist with her gentle hand, then moved closer and intertwined their fingers. There was heat between them, so much that their joined hands were sticky with sweat.

Heather leaned up on her tippy-toes so she was leveled with him, then quietly whispered in his ear, "Just like the blackbird, all you have to do is take your broken wings and learn to fly. You have to let go."

In that moment, Maurice opened his eyes, his heart pounding beneath him and his hand clinging desperately to hers. He turned his head to look at her, setting her off guard when their lips were suddenly close. She was so delicate, pressed up next to him, so incredibly vulnerable it made his head spin. But then again, so was he. They were both broken, lost, and utterly confused, but by being with each other, they somehow felt...whole.

"Heather," Maurice whispered right as she leaned in to seal the small distance between their lips. But then his phone buzzed, and before he even checked it, Maurice knew who it was. He pulled away - their small embrace was broken. Heather looked confused and a little hurt at his sudden gesture, so quietly, Maurice explained.

"Roger," He said, nodding towards his phone. "I gotta go." And then he left, leaving Heather alone on a bank where a blackbird once sung.

Joshua was shooting hoops in the driveway when Maurice came bounding up through the gate and onto the front porch. He was flushed, and his beat up baseball cap was pulled way over his eyes. Something, like usual, was amiss about it, and from the way his hand jittered when he tried to open the door, Joshua assumed it had to do with Jack or Roger. Still, he had to act nonchalant to his brother's anxiety.

"What's up Maur?" Joshua called. Maurice jumped at the sound of his brother's voice.

"Hey, Josh," He said, pulling his baseball cap off and raking a hand through his hair.

Joshua held the basketball in his hands and wandered over beside Maurice.

"Where've ya been?"

It was questions like those that set Maurice on edge. He stared at his older brother, envious of his innocence and angry at his inquisition.

"What does it matter?" He snapped, opening the front door and storming in. He slammed it shut behind him, leaving Joshua waiting dumbly outside.

"Geesh," He mumbled. Something must've happened, or something was _going_ to happen. Maurice had been way too ansy for it not to. Presently, Joshua went back to shooting hoops, and not even ten minutes later, two boys were strolling up through the driveway and onto the porch. Joshua vaguely recognized them. He knew Roger from the black curls that spilt from his head, identical to those of his missing brother's. The other kid must've been Jack, for Joshua hadn't heard of any other guys that hung out with both Roger and Maurice simultaneously. Neither one of the boys acknowledged Joshua, so Joshua ignored both of them as well.

Maurice answered the door and let both the boys in, unknowingly feeding into Joshua's curiosity. Heeding to his interest, he waited a few minutes and then went back inside, promptly venturing up the stairs to Maurice's room. The door was shut, but he could make out the clear voice of Roger and Jack arguing with his brother through the wooden structure. Hesitantly, he pressed his ear up against the door and listened in.

00000

Maurice was aghast. The two boys that stood in front of him were bloodthirsty, raging in their lust for death. It was embedded deep their eyes, and now that Jack had actually _met_ Ralph again, things were worse. They wanted him dead more than ever, but now, they wanted to take someone else down with him.

"What if we didn't...you know...rid of him straight away?" Jack asked, his blue eyes bright with the elation of a new idea. Roger enthusiastically nodded alongside him.

"Yeah! What if we had a bit of fun?"

Maurice was disgusted. "You're both gross," He said, slouching down onto his bed and rolling on his stomach. Jack snorted.

"Not like _that_, you dipshit. I meant with his sister."

Maurice's reply remained mostly the same. "Now you're not only gross but vile as well."

"It'd be _torture_ for him!" Roger exclaimed, laughing. "Jack even said it himself! There's nothing in the world Ralph cares more about that his pretty little sister. I say we make him pay for the troubles he's cost us. I say we make him watch her slowly die."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "He deserves it."

"That's really low, Jack," Maurice said, peeking up and glaring. "Doing that to your own girlfriend."

"Everyone makes sacrifices," Jack said, shrugging, then exhibited a sly smile.

"Don't worry, I'll have my fun with her before we finally cut her off."

Maurice grimaced in disgust, then looked away from both the boys.

"That's still low, Jack."

"Shut up, Maurice," Roger sneered, walking over to the boy and scoffing him on the head. "Why'd it take you so long to answer your phone?"

"I was out," Maurice replied quickly, maybe too quickly, for it aroused suspicion from both Jack and Roger.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Out? Where?"

"Just...out."

"With who?"

"Nobody!" Maurice sneered, sitting up and glaring at both the boys. "I was alone."

Roger's eyes were like two deadly jewels gleaming in the sun, scrutinizing Maurice's every move. It made him uncomfortable.

"You're lying," Roger murmured, his tone as deadly silent as it had been when he killed Derek. "Stop lying to us, Maurice. You know what happens to liars."

"Wilfred was a liar," Jack continued, inching closer to Maurice. "Remember back on the island? Wilfred lied to us. Remember what happened to him?"

Maurice gulped and stiffly nodded. He did remember how Wilfred faired and the punishment Roger wrought upon him. It made him cringe just to think about it. In the moment, Wilfred's lashings had been an addition to the exhilaration of the island's thrill, but now, it served as a deadly reminder to those who objected the rule of Jack.

Wilfred had lied about taking extra rations of food. Wilfred had been beaten into a bloody clump of flesh.

"I remember," Maurice answered quietly.

Jack went on. "Are you having second thoughts about us, Maurice? Do you doubt our tribe? Do you doubt your chief?"

"Jack..." Maurice stared away from the two boys and chewed on his lip, lost for words. What could he say? "It's just...I think we're playing with fire, that's all. I mean I guess I think we should just...let go and move on."

A deep, throaty cackle escaped Roger as he nudged Maurice in the side and laughed.

"Let go and move on?" He sneered, glaring down at the boy. "Who told you that?"

"I'm just saying," Maurice continued. "We're broken and lost from our experiences. I think it's time to mend ourselves and learn to live on."

"You're crazy, Maurice," Jack said, shaking his head as if to dismiss Maurice's ideas. "You know that, right? Crazy. That's why you need us. I think you'd be locked up in an institution if weren't for Roger 'n I."

Roger laughed alongside his friend, but Maurice only sat there, dumbstruck and confused. Was he _really_ crazy? He wasn't sure. He didn't know what was wrong or right anymore.

"Look, Maurice," Jack said again, halting the venomous mirth. "I can't have you going against us and ruining our plans. You're either with us or not. You understand?"

"Yeah," Roger said from beside him. "Choose your side, Maur."

When Maurice didn't speak, Jack grunted and continued.

"Let me rephrase," he started, smiling angrily. "You _will_ do what we say, or you'll end up like Wilfred or worse. Now do you understand?"

Maurice nodded, but it wasn't nearly as convincing as the boys wanted.

"It won't just be you that'll pay," Roger added, blatantly gesturing to a photo of Maurice and his siblings that hung by his bed. "_They'll_ pay to, and you know that they will. We don't mess around. Okay?"

"Fine," Maurice murmured, breaking eye contact with both the boys. "I was never against you anyways."

"Good." Jack grinned. "Makes it easier for us, bro."

The two boys headed towards the door, but pause before they left. With a sick smile, Roger turned around to Maurice and leered, "Next time, answer your phone when I text you. Can't have you dawdling about without supervision anymore, man. This shit is about to get real."

And with that, they left, and once again, Maurice loathed himself. Now they didn't trust him. Now they were going to have to watch him like they did with Samneric. He'd have no privacy, no time to see Heather or to vent about his inner feelings. He was now a prisoner of his own tribe, a prospect to his own people.

He felt terribly alone.

0000000

Joshua saw the door handle jiggle, and immediately, he ducked into a different room and hid beneath the shadowy darkness. Maurice's door opened, and the two guests emerged, heads held high, smirks unforgiving. Joshua had heard their conversation, but it had been muffled and muted through the door, so it was hard for him to pick out every detail. Nevertheless, he had gotten the just of the message. First, they had talked about the same kid Maurice and Jack discussed over the phone that one night. Secondly, they had said something about the kid's sister, and Joshua was fairly sure he'd heard Maurice call her Jack's girlfriend. Then there was a threat about some kid named Wilfred, and finally, they had threatened Maurice with Joshua and Bridget. One thing was for sure; Joshua had no doubts that Roger killed Derek, and it made him angry...angry that he murdered such a good guy like Derek, angry that they were imposing on Maurice, angry that they were ruining everything. He was so angry, in fact, that he stormed out of his hiding spot and followed the two boys down the hall, hastily shouting their names.

"Yo, Jack, Roger!"

The two boys stopped and turned to Joshua, utter confusion and frustration melting in their youthful faces. Joshua looked them both in the eye, creating more tension than there already was, and furiously walked towards them.

"I know what you did," he growled through bared teeth, watching as the boys's expressions faded from curiosity to pure hatred. It only infuriated him more. "I heard what you told Maurice."

At that moment, Maurice came forth from his room to see what all the commotion was about. When he saw his brother shouting at the two boys, he jumped and rushed to stop him.

"Stop it, Josh!" He called, taking his brother by the arm to pull him away. But Joshua jerked back.

"Get off me." He turned his attention back to Roger and Jack. "I know what they did. They were threatening you. They're gonna do something bad."

Jack and Roger glanced at each other, then at Maurice, their eyes fuming at Joshua's interrogation.

"We don't know what you're on about," Jack muttered, his tone as icy as his blue eyes.

"Don't play dumb," Joshua snarled, wild and frenzied. "You're gonna take out the last kid from the island, aren't you? The only other one that objected you guys. Those two that died, they objected you too. That's why you killed them, huh? Because they posed at threats. Did Derek pose as a threat too? Is that why you killed him?"

"Josh!" Maurice shouted, shoving his brother in the side. "Shut the fuck up!"

"What did you say?" Roger growled, cheeks flushed.

Joshua cackled at them both. "You killed him, didn't you?" He saw the way Roger's eyes became dark and knew he was right. "You've done a nice job at acting stoic about the whole thing. You nearly fooled everyone that Derek was kidnapped on his way home from work..._nearly_ fooled everyone." He paused to let it sink in, but when Roger's expression never changed, he grew angrier and yelled, "Betcha didn't know that I knew him, right? Betcha didn't know that we were friends? Well, we were. Only recently, though. But we were on to you. We knew you were planning something bad against some kid - that's what happened, huh? He asked you about it, didn't he? He asked you what you were planning and you killed him, yeah?"

Roger's face had contorted at the insult.

"I don't know what you're talking about," He muttered, trying to act offended, but it came out defensive. Joshua laughed again.

"You killed your own fucking brother!" He shouted.

"I didn't!"

"Yes you did!" Joshua shoved Roger hard in the chest, pushing him against the wall. Maurice shrieked and Jack drew back. Maurice's mother was calling up the stairs, inquiring if everything was okay. When nobody answered, she began to make her way up. Meanwhile, the chaos was only stirring in the hallway.

"You murdered your own fucking brother!" Joshua screamed, pinning Roger up against the wall. "I know you did it! Don't deny it you little sadistic fuck! Derek was right! He was right all along!"

"Get the fuck off of him!" Jack yelled, glancing at Maurice. "Do something!"

But Maurice was helpless, partly because Joshua was much stronger than him, and also because he noticed the dark shade Roger's eyes had turned. His clenched fists were twitching beneath him, just like they had before he'd lunged the rock onto Piggy. His gaze was murderous; he wanted blood. He wanted Joshua dead, and there was nothing Maurice could do to stop him.

Maurice's mother stormed over, crying and shouting for Joshua to get off Roger. Joshua ignored her; his was dealing with a psychopath. He couldn't just let him up.

"Joshua Torrance Carters, get off of him!" His mother yelled, digging her nails into his shoulder blades and jerking him off the boy. Maurice assisted his mother and finally, Joshua gave out, falling off Roger and against his younger brother, who presently pushed him off. Mrs. Carters was already in a fit.

"Oh my god, I have no idea what came over him!" She cried, helping Roger up and pulling him into a warm embrace. Roger didn't smile; he was seething.

Still holding a stubbornly angry Roger, Mrs. Carters glared at Joshua. "How could you accuse him of such a thing? The poor boy's brother is gone, and on top of dealing with the terrible grief, he had to listen to you tell him that it was _his_ fault. That's cruel, Joshua. That is the most brutal thing I have ever heard."

"He threatened Maurice!" Joshua exclaimed, throwing his arms out and unintentionally hitting his brother in the chest. Neither one of them noticed nor cared. "I heard him say it!"

"I don't know what's wrong with you," Mrs. Carters said, shaking her head, her eyes wide in concern. "But something's not right with you, Joshua. You've never acted this way before!"

"I've never needed to! Mom-"

"Go into your room. I'm calling your father. We're dealing with this behavior _now_, even if that means we have to send _you_ off to a military academy."

For Joshua's sake, Maurice hoped they did.

SOPHIA SAT IN HER BACKYARD, COMFORTABLY resting in the soft blanket of grass. The sun grazed down on her, flushing her tanned skin and bringing out freckles she never knew she had. A soft summer breeze played hide and seek between the tree branches. The leaves rustled against one another, shivering like they were cold, whispering many secrets. There wasn't a cloud in the blue, blue sky, and all Sophia could see for miles were evergreen trees and sun bleached blue.

She hadn't heard from Heather since their last encounter. That was quite alright; she knew Heather had to investigate for herself, but still, a small part of Sophia wished that she could also be involved in it. Besides, Jack was growing angrier and angrier by the day, and when all that anger finally exploded, he'd look for someone to take it out on. The only real person he _could_ vent his fury on was Sophia, so in the end, she'd take the brunt of the fall. It always went like this. That's why her parents sent him off to boarding school. He was hurting her, and no matter how much people tried to reconcile with him, nobody could. He'd always come back for her, always enrich his violent temper. But Sophia accepted it, that's just how it went. Now, though, things were changing, and if he could hurt Sophia, she knew he would hurt that Ralph boy in a flash.

The sound of a bird singing interrupted her thoughtful spree. Sophia turned to look at the graceful animal, and saw it was a blackbird, twittering happily. It reminded her of happy times, back when she felt safe and comfortable in the depths of her home. Those days were over, and a new dawn shone on the five-year-old now. Slowly, she arose and approached the singing blackbird. It was innocent, healed, renewed, everything Sophia wished for herself and her family. It looked at her, head cocked sideways, and chirped, earning a giggle from the girl. It was beautiful, so incredibly beautiful, Sophia wondered if it was real. She looked at it, smiled, and sung:

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_ Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_

_ All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free_

_You were only waiting for this moment to be free_

Up towards the driveway, Jack Merridew was just arriving home, and likewise, his anger was spilling over, seething, bubbling like a pot of brewing hatred. Tonight, Sophia would reap his turmoil. Tonight, she would pay for the debts of Maurice and Joshua and Ralph. But tonight, her torture would be different, because tonight, a second boy would be helping Jack in his angry rant. Tonight, Roger would lead in this brutal destruction.


	12. See How They Run

**Hello again :) As a forewarning, this chapter is kind of dark, but it's really just a build-up to the **_**real**_** darkness (did that make sense? lol it sounded better in my mind). Roger kind of rambles on, and his ramblings contain usual...Roger-ish themes. I hope I didn't make him ramble on to much, but he's becoming one of my favorite LOTF characters, so I kind of wanted to take a moment to give him his time to shine. I also wanted to explore his character and give a bit more depth to him. I feel like he's just kind of standing beside Jack and shadowing what he sees, so in this chapter, you get to see a bit more from Roger. It's sort of weird, but then again, so is Roger. Also, I added a few more OC's in this chapter, including Christopher, Will, Lucas, and Tyler :)**

"IT HURTS."

Christina stared at her bloodied sister, trying her best to cradle her wounds.

"Where, Soph?"

"Everywhere."

The girl was sobbing, helplessly moaning, and Christina felt completely useless. Sophia's wounds were much too severe for her to bandage them, but going to a hospital would require telling somebody how it _happened_. And she couldn't, because Christina knew how it happened, but betraying her brother was far too unworldly of her. So, scraping up what she vaguely remembered from high school anatomy, Christina threw together a first aid kit and set to work.

She started with the lacerations on Sophia's arm. Christina found these wounds odd; they weren't Jack's forte. When it came to beating up on his little sister, he usually never drew blood. But this time...this time, there was blood, _lots_ of it, so much that Christina worried at how much blood Sophia had actually lost.

Next she iced the bruises along the girl's torso - there were never any near her face, for that would draw too much attention. Bruises on her arms could easily be covered, but her face...that kind of stuff was irreversible.

Christina cleaned Sophia up and helped her into the shower, washing away all the blood and gore from Jack's sins. It was a tough job, but Christina did it. She healed Sophia and covered for Jack, all for the sake of their family. All so Jack and Sophia wouldn't be sent away back to the boarding schools. All so their tight family unit could have some resemblance to being normal.

After Sophia was cleaned up and dressed into a pair of snug pajamas, Christina took the five-year-old and tucked her into bed, running her fingers over the bandages and bruises. If anyone asked, they would say she tripped down the stairs or fell off her bike. Nobody could know the truth. Nobody could know what Jack had done.

As the small girl fell asleep, Christina sat and watched, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Something didn't seem right. Jack would never hurt Sophia _that_ much. He wouldn't draw blood. A new thought hit Christina like a rock to her head, and for the first time ever, she was truly worried about her younger brother.

Jack hadn't beaten Sophia. Another boy had, and Christina knew exactly who it was.

ROGER HAD NEVER WANTED TO KILL anyone more in his life than Joshua Carters. He loathed him with every nerve in his sadistic self. He hated Joshua, hated him with every fiber he possessed, and yearned to murder him, brutally, slowly, make him pay. But that wasn't Roger's most troubling thought as he walked back home from Jack's house. Yes, some his anger was (thankfully) released on Sophia, but the rest...it bubbled up and seethed out like foam in the sea. Either Maurice had told Joshua the truth about Derek, or Joshua had figured it out. Both scenarios didn't end well for Maurice or Joshua, so Roger didn't mind which one it was. However, if the second scenario proved to be true, then Roger might spare Maurice's life..._might_. But if Maurice had spoken of the events of Derek's death, well then, he'd die with his brother. Roger hated to think about it; he'd always liked Maurice, but the kid was getting to anxious. Besides, Roger didn't think that Maurice would exactly approve of the idea of getting rid of Joshua, but it had to happen. Jack and Roger had already reached the agreement; before they could take out Ralph, they had to deal with the other threats. Joshua, sadly, was the biggest threat of all, dubbing him top on their 'to-do' list.

A bug scuttled under a pebble, and rather inattentively, Roger kicked it, laughing quietly when the bug ran into a frenzy. For the first time in his life, Roger was scared, scared that Joshua called him out on the truth, scared that Maurice had and _would_ betray him. It wasn't that he missed Derek; he had always been a pain, but he was somebody there, somebody that wouldn't tattle on Roger when he caught him playing with blood. Roger smirked at the memory. His mother had always said that karma's a bitch, but for _this_ to happen to Roger...for _Joshua_ to tell the truth! Lucky for Roger, nobody believed Joshua. They thought he was a kook, and Roger only hoped he could get to him before the doctors and boarding schools did.

A car slowly drove by, and Roger glanced wearily at his reflection in the window. His black hair flopped into his forehead, concealing his furrowed eyebrows and concerned look. Roger's eyes were dark, and although they were grey in color, they looked more like black through the tinted car window. His skin was wan and glittered with sweat and small specs of blood. Self-consciously, Roger wiped the dirty evidence off his face, and for the first time, he pondered on what kind of person he may have been if he hadn't have been born...well...odd.

Derek used to do charities and sports. Roger wondered if he would've done charities and community service, or played football and baseball. Maybe he would've been the MVP or something...maybe even the _captain_. Derek had been the captain, and for it, he already had received scholarships. Roger laughed at the idea, and tried to picture himself in a football uniform. He figured that it looked too strange to even imagine, and besides, he probably would've looked eerily like Derek, and he didn't want to think about Derek.

He wondered where Derek was now, and if he was _somewhere_, if he hated Roger. Another thought crossed his mind...Were Piggy and Simon with Derek, laughing over tea and recounting their gruesome deaths? Roger sniggered at the thought and went on to imitate how their conversation might go:

"_He knew it was me," _Roger said, mimicking Simon's rather airy voice. "_He looked me in the eyes and stabbed me in the chest over and over_."

Roger laughed at his imitation and mindlessly swung his arms around a lamppost, then hugged it tight and continued his one-man conversation.

"_Oh really_?" He went on in a dorky lisp-a sure imitation of Piggy. "_Well, he threw a boulder on me! Of course, I didn't ever defend myself on account of asthma. Actually, I never did anything on account of my asthma, and I especially didn't go on a diet...on account of my asthma, of course_."

He laughed hysterically at this, then snorted a few times just to add to the momentum. Finally, he let go of the lamppost and swaggered on, watching as the night grew near and twilight dawned upon the day.

"_That's not so bad, Piggy_," Roger went on, now in a deeper voice - just like his brother. "_He slit my throat, and I was his brother_."

He laughed again and again until his stomach hurt and his knees buckled over. Roger rarely laughed, and this new emotion was foreign and strange to him, but it felt _good_. When he regained control over himself, he gingerly touched his face and giggled once more.

"I'm crazy," he said, eyes wild and bright. He went on to imagine tying Maurice up and forcing him to watch his brother slowly die. It was riveting.

HE WAS GOING TO DIE. Joshua had already faced the dark truth. He had seen it in Roger's eyes when pinned him up against that wall. He was angry, relentless, and so evil that it made Joshua shiver. Roger would kill him, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, he knew it was true.

His mother was of no help to him. The boarding school, according to their father, was unfit to take any of their children ever again after what happened to Maurice. Instead, Mr. Carters suggested that Joshua should start seeing Maurice's psychologist as well, starting Monday. Already, his parents had called five times to apologize to Roger and his parents, and they forced Joshua to add something in there too. It was annoying, but Joshua succumbed to them and apologized to the boy that remained deathly silent on the other line.

Joshua knew that Roger had killed Derek. It was plain and blatant in not only his eyes, but Maurice's and Jack's as well. Poor Maurice...Joshua only hoped that they wouldn't think that Maurice dobbed them in to him. He wanted to Maurice to be safe, so when it came down to it, he would protect him, just as he always had.

He wondered if his death would be quick. No, probably not. Roger didn't look like the kind to take mercy. If only Joshua could tell somebody! But, of course, who would believe him? According to everyone in this fucked up society, Roger was a quiet, unassuming little boy who lost his brother, not a murderer. Not _the_ murderer that he actually was.

Joshua was so consumed in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that Maurice entered his room. His younger brother was fidgeting with the corner, staring at Joshua like he was a puppy that had been kicked around in the rain. His pathetic stare was only worsening Joshua's mood, so quietly, he arose to face his brother.

"Hey, bud," Joshua started, forcing himself to smile. Maurice remained grave.

"Why did you do that? With Roger?" He asked. The look in his eyes made Joshua want to die.

"I was...I dunno...I got angry," He replied, averting his gaze away from Maurice.

After a deep breath, he continued, "They're gonna kill me, aren't they?"

Maurice closed Joshua's door, and desperately, he shook his head.

"Maybe...maybe not. Let me talk to them, Josh. Let me reason with them. They can be reasoned with-"

"S'not worth it, Maur," Joshua sighed plunking down on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

But Maurice was persistent.

"You should go to the police," He said, going against his own advice.

Joshua sadly laughed. "They won't believe me. Nobody thinks Roger's threatening. He's just a little kid."

"You could go away for a while," Maurice cried, face helpless and raw. "Go to Chicago to live with Auntie Darcy. They can't get you there."

Joshua shook his head. "I'd have to come back eventually."

"Josh!" Maurice shrieked, sitting down beside his brother. "You can't just...just give up!"

"They're your fucking friends!"

"We _were_ friends back at school...I don't know what happened..."

"Shut up, Maur."

"Maybe they won't kill you," Maurice said, trying to remain calm. "I could probably talk them out of it. Besides, they're more focused on...on other things."

"How can you just let them do it?"

"Do what?"

"Get away with murder. Plan on hurting more people. How do you just stand there and let them have at it?"

Maurice was quiet before he finally answered.

"I have to," He replied hoarsely. "You know what Roger did to Derek. He'd do it to me or you or even Bridget in a heartbeat if he had to. If I reproached him...god, he'd take away everything I love. _Everything_."

"He's one kid. He can't be _that_ powerful."

"But he is," Maurice breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. "He _is_ that powerful, and it scares the fucking shit out of me. _That's_ why I can't do anything. I'm...I'm scared, even more so now that you've gone and fucking pissed them off. I can't afford to make them mad."

Joshua laughed in spite of himself, watching as the ceiling fan swirled around and around. He started to feel dizzy - dizzy from the fan, dizzy from his feelings, dizzy from his fate, and dizzy that practically no one except Maurice (who didn't really have the wits to do anything about it) believed him about Roger. Maurice's only solution was for Joshua to run away, but what would that do? He couldn't run away forever, and even if he could, he'd be living a life in fear, a life that no one truly wanted to live.

Joshua couldn't run away, because no matter how far he traveled, no matter where he went, the truth would follow him. Roger would follow him.

It was hopeless.

MAURICE WAS HYSTERICAL, so hysterical, it sent Jack into ecstasy. He loved the way Maurice's voice would crack and tremble in fear, even if his whimpers were muffled through the phone line. He was begging, _begging_ Jack to take mercy on Joshua. His helplessness made Jack smile even wider, but still, he listened to his friend's argument.

"He won't tell anybody," Maurice insisted, his voice fuzzy through the phone. "I swear it, he won't."

"How do you know?" Jack asked lazily into the receiver, purposely egging him on. It was fantastic.

"Because!" Maurice was in tears now, sobbing from the other end of Jack's cell phone. Pleasure coursed through the chief as Maurice's weakness became more and more apparent.

"That isn't an adequate answer," Jack slurred, smiling to himself.

"He'll go to the police!" Maurice replied, withholding some of the sobs from before. "He's gonna protect himself-"

"He won't go to the police because _you_ won't let him. You know why?"

Maurice didn't hide the hatred in his tone when he answered, "Why?"

Jack grinned. "Because if he goes to the police and turns us in, he'll have to turn _you_ in as well. You were an accessory to Derek's murder, Maurice. You'll be punished just like the rest of us."

Maurice was quiet, deathly quiet, so Jack continued.

"Look Maur, I feel bad for you. I know you're close with Joshua, that's why I've decided to let him live."

"What?" Maurice breathed. Jack could imagine the glee exploding across his face. "Are you serious, Jack?"

"Yeah. I am."

"What about Roger?"

Jack snorted. "What about him? He'll do what I tell him to. If I say to leave Joshua alone, he will."

"Are you sure?"

A wicked smile flashed across Jack's face, and clearly, he said, "I'm sure." With that, he hung up the phone and leaned back in his seat, staring satisfactorily at his computer screen. Oh, how much joy lying filled him with, especially when it included raising someone's hopes..._especially_ when those hopes belonged to good-guy-picture-perfect-jock-Maurice. He loved the fact that Maurice had believed him so easily, eaten up his lies like they were pudding on a silver platter. Fools. All of them. But, on the other hand, it was a swell thing that Maurice accepted Jack's lies with ease. After all, it saved Jack from having to convince him or go into greater detail. Now, Maurice would tell Joshua that he was safe, and those idiots...those two clueless brothers would become the victims of Jack's tribe's latest crimes. Well, not so much Maurice - they needed Maurice to carry out the death of Ralph - but Joshua...Joshua had to die. Soon.

Jack was growing weary of having a small tribe with rather unwillingly members. Still filled with elation of Maurice's hope, he sent out messages to the rest of the tribe that before he had hesitated on calling upon. This included Bill, Robert, Christopher, Will, Lucas, and Tyler - those were the ones he knew he could trust...for now.

Satisfied with Maurice's deception and the expansion of his hunt, Jack reclined back and propped his feet upon his desk. He could hear Sophia whimpering from her bedroom, and sickly, he squeezed his eyes shut and listened.

What a beautiful revelation.

**I feel like this chapter was kind of crazy and a bit hectic. I'll wrap it up for you in a nice little package: Roger and Jack beat up Sophia, Christina is worried about Jack and Sophia. Roger has a bit of a...Roger moment and imitates dead people. He's pretty pumped to kill Joshua. Joshua thinks he's going to die...yada yada on why Maurice can't stand up to Jack and Roger and why the police is not an option. Maurice then calls Jack, explains to him why he shouldn't kill Joshua, and Jack lies to him by saying that they are NOT going to kill Joshua, when they actually are...er, at least plan on it. Jack assembles the rest of the tribe (YAY new OC's Christopher, Will, Lucas and Tyler who will have little to no importance YAYYY) and creepily listens to his little sister whimper from her wounds. What a lovely guy. Perfect dating material, eh, Hailee? (; Speaking of which, get ready, because there's going to be a heck of a lot of romance coming up soon! lol, well, I best be going now. So please review and make me happy :)**


	13. Won't You Come Out to Play

**Hiiiii** **:) Good news...I'm going to a writer's convention soon! Hopefully, I will be getting my book published. That would be AWESOME. If I do pick up a literary agent or something and it DOES get published, I will let you guys know. If you like this fanfic, then you'll like the book I'm writing. Although it had nothing whatsoever to do with LOTF or the plot of this story, it's still pretty intense and captivating. Just thought I'd share my happy news with all of my favorite readers. Also, thank you for your reviews :) **

** Okay, so first, I'd like to add one little tweek to one character description: In this fic, Roger is pale. Like porcelain pale. His look was inspired by some fan art I saw and ever since then, it's just clicked like that. So he's pale, not tan.**

** Alrighty, glad I cleared that up...phew:) Now for the disclaimer...I do not blah blah blah own the rights (but I really should) to any (I would write a million sequels if I did) of these characters (boy would I have with that!) or LOTF (WHY WASN'T I BORN AS WILLIAM GOLDING?)...wut. ENJOY :) **

BILL, GOOD OL' BILL was thrilled when he received Jack's message. He had been working on summer homework when it came through on his computer, saving him from the wretched geometry that lay ahead. He had been waiting and waiting for Jack to finally call the clan back, and he was ecstatic about the meeting. Thoughts clouded through him...why was Jack reassembling the tribe? Bill hadn't an idea in the world, but it all seemed so perfect and surreal that he hadn't really bothered to ask. Instead, he had jumped up out of his chair and raced into his bathroom, methodically picking at his appearance.

He looked nothing like he had on the island. Apart from quitting choir and being forced to disassociate himself from the island boys (his mother had made him after extensive therapy sessions), his once savage looks had faded long ago. The blonde tufts of lank hair that had once reached his shoulders was buzzed off completely, leaving only a light shading across his head - military style, just his mother preferred it. His hazel eyes no longer shone with the ecstatic feeling of savagery, but now loomed with hatred and boredom for the society he pallidly conformed to. Bill had grown stronger, and in the midst of his chaotic world, managed to look somewhat normal. But truly, deep inside him he didn't _feel_ normal. There was always that longing to be back with Roger and Jack, to have the elation of the hunt, something to shriek and laugh at.

Without another word, he punched in the phone number Jack had given to him and waited.

ROGER WAS HALFWAY SURPRISED WHEN HIS PHONE RANG around ten o'clock the next morning. He was even more surprised when the number was unrecognizable - only Jack and Maurice ever called the young murderer. Raising himself slightly out of bed, he reached for the phone and answered, speaking in a sleep ridden voice.

"Hullo?" He spoke into the receiver groggily.

"Roger!"

_Fuck. It's Bill_. Bill, that over enthusiastic twerp, the only savage the Roger truly ever wanted to kill. It wasn't that he was a bad kid...no, no, no...in fact, he hadn't _done_ anything mean to Roger, only adored him with all his childish heart. Roger wanted him gone because...well...he was annoying. Bill always tried to mimic Roger's actions, from acting nonchalant to indulging in bloody battles. Roger knew that Bill wasn't really a sadist...just a desperate copy-cat, and _that_, that made him want to kill him.

But he wouldn't. Bill was on their side, and if it helped get rid of Ralph, Roger wouldn't object. Still, he couldn't understand how Bill acquired his number.

"Bill," Roger murmured, faking a bit of enthusiasm.

"Aw man, it's so great to hear your voice! How ya doing, bud? Good? Bad?"

"Fine," Roger answered quickly, running a hand through his coarse hair. "And you?"

"Pretty good." Bill paused, then slyly added, "Better now that Jack's been in touch with me."

Roger raised his eyebrows. "Jack? Oh really?"

"Yeah. That's how I got your number. He sent it out to everybody."

A pent of anger went through Roger. Jack sent his number out to _everybody_?

"Who's everybody?" Roger asked, his casual tone simmering into fury. Bill knew that voice all to well, and it excited him to hear the anger once again.

"Oh you know," he replied ambiguously. "Me, Robert, Christopher, Will, Lucas, and Tyler...the _gang_."

Roger laughed in spite of himself. "The _gang_?"

So Bill had no idea. From what Roger could tell, Jack was gathering up the dregs of what was left of their old tribe, obviously gaining numbers against Ralph. That would helpful, especially now that Maurice and Samneric were somewhat reluctant to participate in the events. Bill was a mindless zombie; he would do what Jack and Roger told him to. The others were quite the same. They made good for followers. Swallowing the anger that had been boiling within him, Roger took a breath and sighed.

Bill went on. "Yeah - I wonder if Maur and Samneric will be there...Whatta bout Ralph? Who's going, anyhoo?"

"Ralph's not going," Roger replied quickly, tracing the patterns on his quilt with his finger. "He's not invited."

"Why not?"

Roger's silence answered Bill's question.

"Oh," Bill breathed, suddenly open to Ralph's demise. "He's the reason Jack's calling the meeting, isn't he?"

Again, Roger's silence told Bill everything he needed to know, so quietly, he went on. "Hey..um..so, Roger, I heard about your brother-"

"What?"

"Derek. I heard that he's gone missing...Man, that blows, but seriously-"

"I gotta go. See ya." Roger hung up the phone before Bill could continue. He may be a loyal companion, but Bill didn't strike Roger as the kind of guy that needed to know about Derek's true death. The fact that Bill even dared to bring Derek up bothered Roger, in fact, it bothered him so much that he dragged himself out of bed, slipped into a fresh pair of clothes, brushed his hair, and wandered outside for another walk. Walks always calmed the monster within him. That's why he had taken to walking along the beach back on the island. When he thought he couldn't stand any of those other imbeciles for any longer, he would walk. Alone. By himself. Completely mindless. Just walk.

Mrs. Moyer didn't question where he was going when Roger saw himself out the door. She hardly cared about him anymore; Derek was her main focus. Derek, Derek, Derek, where had he gone? She couldn't figure it out.

Roger walked solemnly, his gaze only lifting when he saw something worth his attention. Like that funny old lady, for instance. She always hung out her washing on the roof of her car.

Roger's hand twitched within the pockets of his jeans. Images of blood and guts and knives flung themselves across his mind, and through a daze, he vaguely recalled the night of Simon's death. That was his first kill..his first _real_ kill. He remembered how the spear had felt pressed between his hands, and the way Simon squirmed beneath him. Roger smirked. Prick. Simon had always been a good-for-nothing prick, a loser. Killing him had been more than pleasurable. Killing Ralph would be even more satisfying.

Roger wished that Jack would hurry up and lure Hailee and Ralph into the trap. Roger had been waiting long enough to kill the ex-chief, and even with Joshua's planned death coming up, Roger knew his urges wouldn't be soothed until Ralph was dead. Besides, it would be even more exciting now that they were throwing Hailee into the mix. She was a girl, obviously, and if she was anything like Ralph, Roger knew he would have a whole heck of lot of fun with her.

At that moment, Roger heard a noise...a girl, actually. She was cursing and quietly squeaked in pain. He looked up, and his dark gaze found her. She was on the opposite side of the empty street, a stack of books loaded in her arms. The girl was mysteriously intriguing to Roger, from the way her dark her framed her tanned face to her beat up converse and lacy skirt. Nowhere near perfect, he decided. Almost imperfect, but interesting all the same. He watched her with a raised eyebrow and she leaned over to pick up a fallen book. Not once did he offer to help, and only when she dropped another book and he chuckled did she finally notice him.

The girl looked up and met his cruel gaze, revealing an innocent, shy looking face. She frowned at him.

"Are you watching me?"

When he didn't answer, she continued with a huff.

"That's a bit rude, you know. Not offering to help me or anything." Her eyes met his expectantly, but he only stared, a humored smirk plastered upon his face. The girl grew frustrated.

"I suppose I shouldn't expect much from a boy who won't even speak -" Another book tumbled from her grasp and she sighed. "Oh my god, this is utterly hopeless...would you mind grabbing that for me?"

Roger stared down at the book the girl was gesturing to, and through a wicked smile, he shook his head. Anger flecked through the girl's enticing gaze.

"Fine. Be that way...What's your name, anyway? Or can't you talk?"

He surprised both the girl and himself when he quietly answered, "Roger."

The girl stared inquisitively at him for a moment, as if deciding whether or not she knew him from somewhere. Finally, she shook her head and gathered up the remaining books.

"Oh. You looked familiar for a moment, but you're probably not who I'm thinking of..."

Roger shrugged, a sly glint passing through his eyes as she arose, revealing her slim form and sun-tanned skin. She was timid, bookwormish even, but pretty all the same.

Once she had all the books placed firmly within her arms, she met Roger's eyes and sighed. "Aren't you going to ask for my name?"

He enjoyed the way her face fell each time he rejected her offer. It pleasured him to see the look of hurt that passed through her dark eyes.

Nevertheless, the girl went on.

"Well I'm Heather. Just in case you care to know...not that you do."

Roger leaned up against a fence bordering a whitewashed house and watched somewhat amused as Heather struggled to retain all the books she was holding. It was strange. She was weak, vulnerable, and delicate, like a porcelain doll teetering on a shelf. Roger was strong, murderous, and irrational, more like the beast that they had all feared back on that damned island. There was practically no one else on the street; he could have easily taken her away to somewhere more secluded and killed her if he pleased. It would've simple; she was so unassuming, so fragile. But despite his anger from Joshua and Bill, Roger didn't _feel_ like killing. For the first time, he didn't feel the bubbling sensation of murder boil up through his gut when he saw this susceptible girl. In fact, he felt something _else_, a whole new emotion that stung at his heart and pulled at his mind. He kind of wanted to follow her, watch her, learn about this quiet girl. He didn't like her...no, no, like wasn't the word...but he immediately felt a possession over her, as if she was a spear ready for the taking. They barely knew each other, but Roger felt a weird attachment for this girl.

It wasn't love, nor was it lust or murder. It was simple; he had taken an assertion towards Heather, and like so many other things Roger did, it was completely irrational. Nevertheless, he trailed behind her as she sauntered down the sidewalk.

AFTER ABOUT THIRTY MINUTES, the strange boy that had been following Heather finally gave-up and turned back around. He had announced himself as Roger, but that had been the only thing he would say. Heather would try to make small talk with him - obviously, he needed someone to talk to if he was following her around like a puppy dog - but he would remain silent, his dark eyes cackling in the sunlight. Odd as he may have seemed, he looked rather harmless, with his black hair and pale skin. Still, Heather glanced behind her shoulder every few minutes just to make sure the wordless boy wasn't following her.

Finally, she reached the house she had been searching for. With the books enclosed tightly between her hands, she wandered up the driveway and towards the door, then rung the doorbell. She wasn't surprised when a girl perhaps a year younger than herself answered the door. She was wearing navy blue sweats and a pink tank top, and her auburn hair flopped lazily in a messy ponytail.

With very little expression, the girl said, "Can I help you?"

Heather tried not to take offense at her stand-offish attitude.

"Actually, I'm here to see Maurice."

The girl stared from the books spilling out from Heather's arms and chewed on her lip.

"May I ask who you are?" The girl asked, her green eyes narrowing into a glare.

Heather sighed. "Heather. Heather Waterford. He'll know who I am."

The girl nodded and shut the door. Heather only waited for a few moments before the door reopened to Maurice's solemn face. The girl still loomed behind him, and it took a few minutes before she finally was convinced to leave.

"Go away, Bridget. I'll be back in a few," Maurice called to the girl, watching as she huffed and rolled her eyes. Once she was finally gone, Maurice walked out beside Heather and closed the door behind him, green eyes somber and restless. Heather noticed his stress almost immediately.

"Are you okay?" She asked, setting the books down on the ground. Her arms felt all wobbly after carrying the expansive weight.

Maurice sighed and slumped on the ground beside the books.

"No, not really." He massaged his forehead and closed his eyes. "Roger and Jack came over yesterday."

At the name _Roger_, Heather's heart tightened. She faintly remembered the boy that had followed her for most of her journey towards Maurice's house, but shook away the thought. _Nah, they must be different people. If that had been Derek's brother, he would've slit my throat for sure_.

"They did?" Heather breathed, sitting down next to Maurice. She was vaguely aware of the small burst of heat that smashed through her when their arms touched.

Maurice nodded. "Yeah. They don't trust me anymore. They sensed that I was losing touch with _their_ reality."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean they're gonna keep watch on me 24/7," Maurice snapped, unintentionally raising his voice. Once he saw the way Heather's face fell, his tone softened and he huffed. "They're probably watching me right now."

The two teenagers glanced suspiciously around, as if they were scouring for evidence of Maurice's statement. There was a cool breeze that settled the heat flecking their sun-grazed skin, and as they breathed in the thick, humid air, it seemed as if they were the only two people in the world. But they weren't. Maurice knew that.

Quietly, he glanced down at the books beside him and frowned. "What are those for?"

"My mom's a psychologist," Heather muttered, reached over Maurice to place a hand on the books. It made his entire body prickle with a semblance of elation. Heather continued. "I thought...you know...maybe we could sort out Jack's character through her psychology books. You can borrow them, if you want. They might also help you deal with your...er...feelings about Derek and the island."

Maurice nodded slowly, watching as she drew back her hand and stared anxiously out into the street.

"Yeah," he agreed, picking up the first book and fingering the edges. "I'll take a look at them."

Heather suddenly stared at him, her eyes ablaze and her cheeks flushed. She was chewing at her lip nervously, like there was something dark on her mind.

"Maurice," She began, drawling out his name like it was a command. It made his heart nearly stop.

"Yeah?"

"You _are_ going to try to pull away from them, aren't you?"

Maurice thought for a minute about Jack and Roger and the conversation that had gone down earlier. He remembered Joshua and his harsh the words, and then Jack, reviving his somber spirits. He didn't know what to think or who to believe, but he recognized that now wasn't the time to really piss of Jack.

"Maybe," he finally answered as he arose, taking the books with him. He held them much easier than Heather. "I'll see you around." With that, he went back inside and left Heather, once again, alone.

She was growing tired of his ambiguous ways.

JACK LACED HIS FINGERS THROUGH Hailee's blond hair, stroking it back as he watched her blue eyes glitter with laughter. They had been sitting like this for at least an hour - on her bed, alone, and in silence. Ralph hadn't once disturbed them; just seeing Jack again in his own house unnerved him, but to watch him enter Hailee's room and _close the door_...it made him sick. But, as Jack knew, Ralph wouldn't object it, nor would he do anything to stop it. Ralph's position was secure in the way Jack had planned, and so far, everything was going just as he had hoped. Hailee suspected nothing, as did Ralph, and Maurice was still convinced that big-brother-Joshua was going to be a-okay. Jack smiled to himself as he recalled his plans for the very next day when his tribe would finally be reunited. It would be splendid, and he just couldn't _wait_ to see the look of Maurice's face when they...

"Jack?"

Hailee was looking up at him. Her head rested on his lap, and a look of longing crossed her dark blue eyes. Jack smiled again, proud of his conniving ways. One day, she would be his prisoner. His dutiful prisoner of war.

"Yes?"

Her face flushed when she reached up and brushed hand across his face.

"Can you sing to me?" Her voice was soft, so soft, it even made Jack's cold heart melt in the slightest way.

"Sing to you?" Her request truly humored him. "I haven't sung since I was choir back at school." He didn't mention what school he had attended on account of keeping her suspicions low.

Hailee pouted now. "_Pleeeaasseee_?"

Jack drew a deep breath, glanced down at the gigging girl, and sung:

"_He said I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war_

_If you can tell me something worth fighting for_

_Oh and I'm gonna buy this place, that's what I said_

_Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head._

_And honey all the movements you're starting to make_

_See me crumble and fall on my face_

_And I know the mistakes that I made_

_See it all disappear without a trace_

_And they call as they beckon you on_

_They said start as you mean to go on_

_Start as you mean to go on."_

He hardly finished the song before Hailee leaned up and took his bottom lip between hers, kissing him gently. She took him by surprise, but still, he felt his lips molding in time against hers. His tongue grazed the cold, minty gum she had been chewing, and without meaning to, it was transferred into his mouth.

Hailee laughed, and their lips parted just long enough for Jack to grin and ask, "Do you want your gum back?"

She laughed again, and for the first time, Jack was pleased with himself for bringing her joy. Suddenly, he wasn't thinking about murdering Ralph or torturing Hailee...he was lost in her dark blue eyes and overjoyed smile, the way her laugh made his heart flutter. Before he knew it, he was kissing her again - not in spite of Ralph or the stupid things he had done on the island. He was kissing her because he wanted to, because it had flattered him that she wanted to hear him sing. For a moment, Jack Merridew was melting, melting from a stony hard chief into a smitten schoolboy.

FROM HIS ROOM, RALPH could hear his sister's muffled giggles, followed by Jack's. He plugged his fingers in his ears so he wouldn't have to listen any longer as their laughter faded into murmurs of longing. Jack would sing every now and then in that experienced, practiced voice of his, and each time he did, Ralph heard Hailee quietly singing along with him. It made him absolutely sick that Jack was using his sister like that, but he valued her life far too much to piss Jack off about it. All he could do was wait for Jack to lose interest and go away, which eventually, would happen. He'd lose interest with Hailee just like he had with Ralph's authority and Piggy's amusing comments. Jack was like that; fickle, irrational, and completely irresponsible. Everything Ralph stood against.

Yet something within Ralph crawled and withered, like a flower drowning in the sun. He knew that there were darker intentions behind Jack's facade with Hailee, and he presumed he had something to do with him. Still, Ralph hardly minded. What could Jack do, back here at home? What would he do to Ralph when there were police and detectives to investigate his every movement? Nothing. Ralph was safe, or at least he managed to convince himself he was safe. Then again, Ralph had convinced himself about a lot of things, and most of them turned out to be untrue. Ralph didn't like to think about the truth anymore; he preferred the whimsical world of which he had invented for himself, full of happy childhood memories and untainted children...

IT WAS AROUND EIGHT-THIRTY AT NIGHT WHEN Maurice went outside to take out the trash. It was about eight-thirty-five when someone came up behind him and punched him hard in the back, forcing him to stumble over. He suppressed a scream, and as a hard, cold hand pushed down his mouth, he felt a foot repeatedly kicking into his stomach. Vomit curled up his throat, but he forced it back down as hot tears trickled down his face. The hand lifted itself off his mouth, and Maurice was about to scream when someone knocked him over the head and everything panned out into darkness. At eight-forty PM, Maurice's unconscious body had been loaded into a car and was being hauled into the night.

**Woo for cliff hangers! I have no idea why, but I'm really hyper. Maybe it's because I GET TO READ LOTF NEXT TERM IN ENGLISH! I read it for pure enjoyment when I was twelve, loved it, and now I get to STUDY IT! Yayyyyyyyy! I'm the kind of weird person that likes to write essays, but an essay on LOTF...that would AWESOMEEE! I told my English teacher that it was my all-time favorite book, and she was like "Yayy most people don't like it but yayy you do!" And I'm like "Yes ma'am, I love all the characters except Piggy!"**

** Don't ask me why I don't like Piggy. I just don't. Maybe it's because I'm a huge Jack and Roger fan (although Simon's my favorite). Also, the actors who play Piggy in the both the movies really annoy me. They just...just...do! **

** Ahh, I'm rambling again. My bad. Anyways, another kind of filler chapter. Next chapter is going to have heavy action so buckle your seat belts and get ready. Please, please review and tell me what you think or what you want to see happen in the future! (reviews are the only way I can incorporate your lovely ideas or requests!) BTW, I hope that whole Heather/Roger thing wasn't completely confusing. It's just, I don't think Roger would ever really LIKE somebody, it'd be more of a claim. He's all animal like and animals claim their territory, so to him, a girl is his territory. I've already said too much, and I have to go anyways. Alright, review PLEASSEEE(: BYE! :)**


	14. Imagine All The People

**Meh...high school is tiring. Lol. Thank you for your reviews. I have a shout-out today...**

** Cocolada: That's awesome about your fanfiction! I'll be the first one to read it! :) (not to sound, like, creepy or anything...lol). Yeah that's how I pictured Roger too. I think I know the fanart that you're talking about, because the one that I based Roger off of is depicted with red eyes as well. Y'know, it really suits him. It's a fitting look. Thanks for your reviews :)**

** Yay shout-outs make me happy :) Okay, this chapter includes some moderately disturbing and suggestive themes (ooooooooohhhhhhhhh winky face) wut. I don't know. I don't know what I'm on about half the time. I'm just...I'm just...*sighs*...**

** I don't own any of this. None of it...well, besides the plot and the OC's...but other than that, I don't own any of it. Nada.**

** Without further adieu, I present the next chapter for Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night! :)**

MAURICE AWOKE TO FIND HIMSELF TIED UP in a musty smelling shed. His stomach hurt something awful, and his head throbbed from where someone had hit him. He tasted the blood that trickled down from his busted lip, and suddenly, he was vaguely aware that he _knew_ where he was. Yes, this was the place that Jack and Roger had settled on bringing Ralph when the time came to kill him. So did that mean that...that...that...

Maurice jumped when he saw Bill and Tyler, a beefy, broad boy, emerge from the darkness and walk towards him. He was even more surprised when he saw grins plastered upon their youthful faces.

"Hey, Maur!" Bill exclaimed, sitting on a stool opposite to Tyler. Maurice was appalled.

"What the _fuck_, Bill?"

"Sorry about that whole jump and attack thing - Chief thought it was necessary." Bill actually looked sincere, but still, his eyes flickered with a catty light. Tyler grinned from beside him.

"Sup, Maur?" he asked, glancing at Bill and sharing a joint laugh.

Maurice wanted to cry. "Why...why am I here?"

"Chief ordered it," Tyler replied, cracking his knuckles. He saw Maurice's look of worry and continued. "I don't know what he wanted you for..."

"He's not gonna do you in, Maur," Bill said, interrupting his friend and staring lazily at the tied up boy. "He just needed your...hmm..._cooperation_ with something."

"What does he want me to cooperate with?" Maurice's blood had turned ice cold and it felt as thought his heart had frozen. Something about the way Bill kept giving a wicked smile told Maurice that whatever Jack had called, it wasn't good.

"He'll be here soon," Tyler assured Maurice, clenching his hand into a fist. "But in the mean time, we're here to make sure you behave."

"Don't worry, Maurice," Bill continued, grinning again. "We left your family a sticky-note on the front door."

JOSHUA STARED AT THE NOTE IN his hands, trying his best to hide his emotions from his family. Late last night after it had taken _forever_ for Maurice to take out the trash, Joshua had reluctantly walked outside to make sure everything was alright. What he found displeased him: no Maurice, and a note on the door explaining his absence. It read as followed:

_Dear family,_

_I've gone to Jack's house for the night. Just need some space and some time to think. Be back tomorrow_.

The note might've fooled Joshua's family, but it hardly fooled him. Not wanting to cause an upheaval at home, Joshua simply told his family what the note said, then had gone straight up to his room to think about it. Unlike his family, Joshua knew that Maurice hadn't just up and left for Jack's house, and that most likely, he wouldn't be coming home. Unless, of course, Joshua could help it.

He studied the handwriting of the note. It certainly didn't belong to Maurice, but it definitely was a boy's penmanship. It looked too messy to be Roger's, who seemed like the kind of freak that had perfect writing. It was too rushed to be Jack's, who also struck Joshua as a bit of a perfectionist. That meant that there was someone else working with the two. Joshua, however, barely had any time to find out, and following the note's instructions, he headed into his car and made his way to Jack's house, hoping to retrieve his brother.

When he arrived, he was greeted by a small girl of maybe five or six. She was covered in bandages and nasty bruises. Still, her expression was bright, and with a small frown, she looked up at Joshua.

"Yes?"

"I'm here for Jack. I think my brother Maurice crashed here last night."

The little girl shook her head. "None of Jack's friends slept over last night, and besides - Jack just left."

Joshua raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? Where to?"

"Darlington Park, I think."

Without another word, Joshua jumped right back in his car and drove towards Darlington Park.

Joshua pulled into the parking lot of the park with ease - there were literally no other cars, and the park was practically deserted. Somewhat hesitantly, Joshua hopped out of the car and stared out into the silent horizon. He hadn't been to the park in ages, not since Maurice was still in elementary school. Those had been fun times, the best of times, really, when being a big brother was the best thing in the entire world. Now it seemed like a headache to always worry about Maurice's wellbeing, especially that it his best friends were bloodthirsty murderers. At the thought, Joshua realized that he was only armed with his cell phone, just in case this turned to be a ploy against him. A dark feeling beneath his heart roared at this assumption, but Joshua ignored it and pressed forward, walking over the dry pine needles and brown leaves.

He followed the trail past the lake and into the woods, watching closely for any human movements. But he found nothing; the place was as barren as the parking lot. it didn't ease his spirits.

It was a good twenty minutes before he finally stumbled upon some kid leaning casually up against a tree, his Nike sneakers scathed by dirt and mud. He looked maybe thirteen years old. Joshua didn't recognize him as either Jack or Roger, so he wasn't sure what to expect.

Carefully, he called over to the kid. "Hey!"

The kid glanced over as his light brown curls fell into his forehead.

Joshua continued. "Yo, can I have a word?"

The kid, although aggravated, stumbled over to Joshua. When they finally met, Joshua realized that kid was a good few inches taller than he had initially thought..older too, maybe fifteen. He was okay looking for the most part, save one nasty cut across his cheek.

Joshua frowned. "Whacha doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"I could ask the same for you."

Their eyes were at a deadlock before Joshua continued. "What's your name?"

"Christopher." Christopher glared. "And yours?"

"Joshua."

"Oh."

"Where'd you get that cut from?" Joshua asked, gesturing to the cut on Christopher's cheek.

The boy grinned. "I fell."

"You fell?"

"Down the hill."

"You never answered my first question."

"Either did you."

They were stuck there for a moment, neither one prepared to move, although they both sensed the tension that was thick in the air. Joshua couldn't be sure if Christopher was part of Jack's gang, but from the snide way he held his freckled head in the air, Joshua assumed he was.

Getting straight to the point, Joshua asked, "I'm looking for my brother."

"Maurice?"

Joshua frowned. "How'd you know?"

"I'm pretty smart," Christopher said before kneeing Joshua in the balls and calling over his shoulder, "_Lucas! Will! I got 'im! Come 'ere!_"

Joshua had buckled over in pain, and through watery eyes, he could make out two figures heading towards him, carrying what looked like to be sticks. When they approached him, they each delivered several crippling punches to his face before they each grabbed hold of a limb and lugged his beaten body over to their 'headquarters'.

JACK WAS GROWING TO LOVE pain. It came in all shapes and sizes, but each time, it granted him a higher elation than the last. Take Maurice, for example. The way he squirmed and writhed to try and escape from the ropes that kept him bound in the shed. It was humorous to watch how utterly helpless he looked, and even more amusing when Bill and Tyler would methodically hit him on the back with a bloodied spear, forcing one more cry, one more shriek to elate Jack's ecstasy. But the best was yet to come, and finally, it did, when Christopher burst through the door, Lucas and Will trailing behind him with the very conscious body of Joshua.

"We got him," Christopher cheered, slamming the door shut behind his friends.

"He came just as you said...oh, hey Maurice."

Maurice glared through swollen green eyes, watching in pain as the boys threw his brother down. He glanced at Jack and growled, "_Jack_!"

Jack grinned.

"I know, I know what I said, about leaving Joshua alone. But face it, Maur, he's a loose canon. He might open up and spill everything in second. We can't have him roaming around alive. Plus, I promised Roger I'd let him kill something soon, and I'd rather let him murder Joshua than one of our tribe mates, savvy?"

From behind Jack, Roger sat in a wooden chair, playfully pricking his finger at the very tip of a knife. To Maurice's dismay, Roger was grinning.

"No," Maurice pleaded, forcing himself to sit up. "Jack...no...Roger can kill me. I don't care...he doesn't have to kill Joshua...kill _me_ instead."

"We can't," Roger said, shaking his head. "We need you for Ralph. Trust me, if we didn't, you'd be dying with Joshua today."

Tears began to flood Maurice's eyes as he helplessly begged.

"Please, _please_ don't! Just..Jack...you can't..."

"I can," Jack sneered, walking towards Joshua. "And I _will_."

"Jack...you don't get it...Jack, _stop, damn you!_"

But the boys had already started in, beating and ripping at Joshua's flesh. The knives and spears weren't used at this point; only the bare claws of their fingers and edges of their teeth. They ravaged the boy until he screamed out and blood poured out of his wounds. Maurice sat there helplessly crying, loathing himself more and more by the minute. He hated them. All of them. And he hated that on the island, the same beast that possessed them now had also captured him. But now...he felt like dying. He wished he _would_ die.

The boys parted from their bloodied victim, their clothes stained and splattered with fresh blood. They all looked wild, each and every one of them. Joshua was not yet dead; he still moaned in agony on the floor. Roger looked ready to do him in when a timid knock came at the door. The boys froze, and Maurice cried out.

"Help!" He shrieked. "Whoever's out there, please help! I'm trapped in here-"

The door opened, and Samneric walked through, Amy trailing reluctantly behind them. They looked shocked at the sight in front of them, gazing with wide eyes at Maurice and then the beaten boy who lay groaning on the floor. Hesitantly, they stared back at their ravenous chief and gulped.

"Jack," Sam began, instinctively pushing Amy so that she was behind him.

Eric continued. "We didn't know..."

"...We thought you had called a meeting..."

"...Not _this_..."

"...What is this, anyway?"

"...It's just, we have Amy..."

"...And she's still so young, we really ought..."

"...not to have brought her if you're doing _this_ today..."

Both of the twins stared inquisitively down at Joshua and frowned.

"That's not Ralph," Eric said, the words sour in his mouth.

Sam nodded sickly. "Jack, who is that?"

"...'n why is Maurice..."

"...tied up like that?"

The boys blatant curiosity was sending Jack nerves ablaze, more so when he saw how terrified their young sister looked.

"Samneric," Jack began, smiling curtly.

Sam awkwardly backed towards the door.

"We should be leaving."

"Yes," Eric agreed. "On account of Amy."

"Samneric," Roger called. "You can't leave already." A sly grin possessed the young murderer, forcing both the twins and their sister to recoil from where they stood.

"C'mon guys," Bill exclaimed, jumping up and throwing out his hands. "It's _me_! _Bill_! Remember!"

The twins did, but hardly, considering the mask of blood that now covered the majority of Bill's face. A few of the other boys joined Bill in his encouraging accord, and finally, the twins gave in.

"Fine," Sam said softly, knowing that truly, they had no other choice.

Jack, who was now satisfied, turned his attention to Maurice, who was heaving with sobs, practically oblivious to the twin's presence. Jack watched his friend and then Joshua's limp but conscious state, and a sly idea passed through his head. He knew now that, like Samneric, he would never truly have Maurice's full loyalty, especially if he killed of Joshua. Perhaps...Perhaps he didn't have to _kill_ Joshua. Perhaps he could just...blackmail him.

"Maurice," Jack said calmly. Maurice ignored him, so Jack snapped his fingers in Roger's direction and watched as his companion forcibly took Maurice by the jaw and jerked his head towards Jack. Again Jack said, "Maurice."

Maurice sobbed, ignoring the sudden pain of Roger's fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his jawline.

At his silence, Jack continued. "Are you willing to make a deal?" This, for whatever reason, brought Maurice halfway back to his senses. He managed to slow his sobs long enough to sputter the words, "What...what do you mean?"

Jack grinned and somewhat deftly, placed a foot on Joshua's side, enforcing his superiority. "Ever heard of the term, _quid pro quo_? It's a nice little saying, I reckon."

Maurice frowned. "W..what?"

"It's means, _this for that_. It's Latin." Jack let it sink in and watched as Maurice's sobs were reduced to mere snivels. Jack smiled. "You'd do anything to see Joshua live, am I correct?"

Maurice nodded almost immediately. Jack went on.

"Alright then, Maurice. Let's make a compromise; you obey my orders and complete them efficiently, and I'll spare your brother's life." Maurice's eyes had gained a glint of hope, but Jack wasn't going to fulfill his spirits completely yet. "That means, if I need you to knock Hailee unconscious when we finally bring her to the agreed meeting spot, you'll do it without hesitation. There'll be no more, _I dunno _or _Maybe we should just move on_..You'll do what I say, as I say, and when I say so. Got it?"

Maurice actually hesitated for a moment, but finally, he nodded.

Jack, however, spoke again.

"Now, just in case you feel a bit daring and fail to comply, I'm going to keep Joshua here, guarded at all times. You are only to see him when Roger or I says so. You are to tell your parents that he ran away...that he _told_ you he was going to run away right before he did. Tell them you don't know when he'll be back, but that he's safe from harm. Don't let them call the cops. We already have enough shit to deal with from Derek's disappearance." Jack threw an irritated glare at Roger's direction, then focused back on Maurice's quivering form. "We clear?"

Maurice glanced nervously at his brother, then at the twins - the only ones who truly understood his reluctance to comply with Jack. They, Maurice realized, were under a similar circumstance. If they at any point chose to be loyal to Ralph over Jack, the chief could easily do away with Amy, just as he threatened to do with Joshua.

Without another sound, Maurice nodded.

"Fine. But..but will he be...okay?"

"He'll be fine," Jack said dismissively, taking his foot of the bleeding teenager on the floor. "Tyler's parents are doctors. He'll know what to do with him. Speaking of which, if anyone asks what happened to _you_, you will tell them that you fell down the stairs at my house, which according to our story, is where you were last night. Got it?"

"Fine," Maurice repeated again, sighing in relief as Lucas untied his ropes. His wrists were aching something awful, but it was nothing compared to the gut wrenching feeling of seeing Joshua like...like _that_. He hesitated at the door, staring at the brother that had done nothing but adored him, the brother that taught him how to play football and deal with grumpy teachers. Joshua was all Maurice ever remembered, ever since he _could_ remember, to be perfectly factual. He had always been there, _always_, even when Maurice's father had been too caught up in work to ever pay attention to his sons. Joshua, Maurice realized, was his life. He loved him as dearly as Sam loved Eric or Eric loved Sam - it was a brotherly bond to strong to be broken, and bond that Maurice would be betraying by abandoning the helpless eighteen-year-old there. But he did. He reached for the doorknob of the shed, twisted it open, and walked out, squeezing his eyes shut as he heard his brother scream for him.

"Maurice! Oh god, please don't leave me here! Maurice! Maurice-"

Jack slammed the door shut behind Maurice, cutting Joshua's pleas of abruptly. Maurice stood there for a moment, unsure whether he felt guilty or self-hatred. He decided it was a median between the two, and if could've, he would've willingly jumped in the lake and drowned himself. But there were consequences to every action, and even Maurice escaped this world somehow, Joshua wouldn't, and either would Ralph, or Heather. Dying, that was a mercy. Living in this hell - Maurice realized it was a punishment probably for all the bad things he had ever done.

Like Joshua had once theorized, Maurice, essentially, had disintegrated into nothing. But even nothing was considered to be something.

HEATHER WAS SORTING THROUGH old, family photographs when she heard the rapping at her window. She looked up from the picture of toddler versions her and Simon building a sandcastle together and stared at the source of the somewhat disturbing noise. It sounded like someone was throwing rocks at her window, and somewhat annoyed, Heather arose to take a look. She had been spot on with her hypothesis; Someone _was_ throwing rocks at her window, but when she opened the latch and peeked out of the frame, the rocks stopped, and the cool night air enveloped her.

Heather stared down at the boy who clutched a small pebble in his head, his green eyes wide with fear and desperation. Pleased to see him, Heather leaned her arms on the window pane and smiled.

"Maurice?" She called, watching as his face faltered. _No, something's wrong_.

"Heather-" His voice caught, and a single sob emerged from his already trembling body.

Anxiously, Heather gazed down at him.

"Maurice?" Her voice was full of concern. "Maurice...are you?"

"I need to come up."

Maurice was asking her; he was going to come up, whether she liked it or not.

Heather glanced around at her door with full knowledge that her mother lay in bed only a few rooms away. Still, Maurice _needed_ her, and that made her feel...whole.

"Hang on," She said, going for her door, but Maurice didn't seem to have the patience. No, he had already found a steady grip between the crevices of the brick exterior, and was hoisting himself off.

Heather gawked. "Maurice, you're going to fall and break your neck!"

But Maurice was running on pure adrenaline, pure anger, and when it came down to it, anger was a powerful emotion.

It went like this for a few more moments; Maurice digging his fingers and feet into the crumbing cement between the bricks and Heather watching in awe and concern.

She wasn't sure how to react, but when he finally reached for her hand to help him through her window, she didn't hesitant. Not a bit.

Heather helped pull him through the window. At any other time, she would've laughed when they toppled on each other after he was finally through, but from the way his green eyes glinted with a sorrowful glare, she knew now was not the time. And then she saw his wounds...

"Oh my god," She said, sitting up and placing a hand over a bruise on his cheek. "What _happened_ to you?"

Maurice didn't answer; he only stared out through the open window and huffed.

Being a Waterford, it was Heather's instinct to help him, and help she tried, but each time she attempted to gingerly clean the cuts along his once unmarred skin, he'd pull away. Finally Heather gave up and stared at the boy in confusion.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked, her voice soft but accusing.

Maurice looked down at his hands.

"What do you _think_ is wrong with me?" He asked, so angrily that Heather jumped back.

"I was just...just..."

"Trying to help?" He muttered bitterly as he arose and brushed himself down. He snorted. "Just like your fucking brother..."

At his words, Heather's blood boiled. How _dare_ he!

"If you came here to patronize me, then I'd appreciate it if you'd leave."

"You know I took a look at those books you gave me," He said suddenly, ignoring Heather's warning. His tone was still cold.

Heather raised one eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Maurice mindlessly picked up a picture from Heather's pile and stared at it, reflecting little to no emotion. "I think I have something called _melancholia_. Simply means I have little to no happiness for _anything_...I didn't even know that was a disease..."

Heather was silent, but her gaze never left Maurice as he displayed the photograph he had been staring at, a weird, un-Maurice-like grin plastered on his bruised face. It was a picture of Simon, about seven-years-old, sitting in his school uniform, arm in arm with Heather. A sob escaped her at the memory, and Maurice's eyes flickered with a brief disdain for her emotion.

"I hurt you," he said, flicking the photo away. "I _hurt_ you, didn't I?"

Heather stared up at him, her heart swelling with a mixture of mad emotions.

"You didn't," She insisted, reached out to him. "Maurice, what's wrong?"

"I killed your brother," Maurice said, reaching for another photograph. It was also of Simon. "I killed him!"

"You weren't yourself on the island!" She cried, pushing the picture out of his hands.

Maurice shook his head.

"The crazy thing, Heather, is that I think I _was_ myself on that island. I knew it was him, even when Jack tried to convince us the very next day that it was the Beast, I knew it was Simon. I knew it was him when he came bounding out of the woods and fumbling into our circle. And you know what? I still killed him."

"Stop it!" Heather begged as her eyes filled with warm tears.

Maurice was seething with fury.

"Am I hurting you now?" He snapped, approaching the weeping girl with an exerted amount of force. "You wanna know what I did? You wanna know why I'm not so different from Jack and Roger? I dug my spear into Simon's leg, see, so he couldn't get up. And I _laughed_, because Roger and Jack were laughing. Because we were all laughing. I pinned him down with my spear so Roger could spear him in the chest, over and over. Over and fucking over!"

Maurice's face was flushed with the intensity of his words, and unconsciously, he had kicked the stool to Heather's vanity table and turned it over, adding to the ruckus. Heather, astounded at his words, had drawn back and crumbled. She wept on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and sobbing.

"Don't say that!" She pleaded. "Please don't-"

"And now," Maurice continued, exposing each and every twinge of anger he had ever felt for himself. "Now I've abandoned my brother. He called for me, he _begged_ me not to leave him, but I did, because I'm a fucking selfish prick. I'm more of beast than Roger. I left my brother to the dogs."

Heather stared up through watery eyes and stuttered, "What...what are you talking about?"

"They took Joshua!" Maurice yelled, forcing Heather to shush him - after all, her mother could wake up. Maurice ignored her and continued. "They took _me_ and _beat_ me and lured him away. They were going to _kill_ him, right there, in front of me, without even _thinking _about it! And the whole time I'm sitting there, thinking, what the _fuck_ would I do without Joshua? Then I realize - it _hit_ me - what I'd done to you, what we'd all done to you...I took away your brother, just like they were going to take away mine. Difference is though, they didn't, because they figured if they kept him alive, I'd be loyal to them. Now he's...I've...he called out, and I...I ignored him..I took Simon away...I...I..."

Maurice broke, right then and there, collapsing onto the floor and into a weeping heap. He sobbed, harder than ever before, sobbed for Joshua, sobbed for Simon, sobbed for Ralph...He really did hate himself, and Heather saw this. He hated himself more than anything else in the entire world, and before she knew what she was doing, Heather had drawn him in her arms and pulled the crying boy close.

"I forgive you," she whispered, stroking back his auburn locks of hair. "I know you're good, Maurice, and I forgive you."

Maurice looked up at her with pained green eyes, green eyes that had witnessed far too much impurities for a boy so young. He was tired, worn, and weak, and Heather's embrace was like a remedy against all the woes and fears that enveloped him. He succumbed to her, to all the feelings he knew stirred inside of him - the guilt, the pain, the horrible confusion - and without another word, he leaned up and gently, _ever_ so gently, touched his lips to hers. The tension between them combusted, and like a fire exposed to gasoline, their hearts exploded.

Heather clung onto Maurice's strong frame, practically stinging with the heat from their embrace. He kissed her, and slowly, he parted her soft lips and _tasted_ her, indulging in her warm, wet mouth. He had done this before, she hadn't, and hesitantly, she let him lead the way, gasping slightly when she felt his tongue slide over hers. Simultaneously, his hands ravenously drifted down the curve of her slim, teenage figure, taking in each rigid edge of her rough tank top and every fast motion of her short breaths. She tried to wrap her mind around the reality of their kiss, but it overwhelmed her to even think about. She pulled back for a moment, just to touch his face, just to make sure it was all real...

"Maurice," Heather said quietly. She hadn't noticed that she had wrapped her legs around Maurice's waist some time during their brief exchange.

Maurice muttered, "Yeah?"

She leaned forward to touch her forehead to his, then sighed.

"We need to let go," She whispered, her skin ablaze when she felt Maurice's warm touch so close to her.

"I want to forget," He answered, pecking her jaw.

Heather smiled and drew his lips close to hers. Before they sealed, she grinned and murmured, "Then forget."

Maurice pressed his lips against hers again, groaning when he felt her delicate body crushed against his. With that, the two teenagers lost themselves in a beautiful reality, and through that reality, they lost themselves in each other.

**Woo yay for somewhat happy scenes (at the end there, at least). I watched the 1963 version of LOTF yesterday and I was like, "Dafuq, why is Ralph a brunette...AGAIN? AND DOUBLE DAFUQ, WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIS TEETH? AND TRIPLE DAFUQ, WHY IS JACK FLIPPING HOT?" I was quite confused after watching it, especially the whipping scene...that was...just...j...just...disturbing. Poor kid. ANYWAYS, back on topic, hope you enjoyed the latest installment for Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night. This kind of took me forever to write (IDK WHY) so reviews would be much appreciated (: Don't be afraid to put your ideas out there...I LIKE IDEAS. THEY MAKE ME HAPPY AND WARM INSIDE. Awkward. Also, why doesn't anybody else ship Maurice with anyone? He's freaking awesome. Just like, seriously. Awesome. Kay, I have homework that needs completing, and fanfictions that need reading (see what I did? haha), so I BEST BE LEAVING. (wow, i need to be a rapper. I'd be amazing. lol not really.) Review please! LOVE YOU ALL! x**


	15. Pretty Little Policemen In A Row

**Oh haii there. So it's been about three weeks since I last updated, and I'm am truly, very sorry for prolonging this. I've been procrastinating, and it was coming to the end of the term at school, so I was really busy. We're finished with The Odyssey in English and we're about to start reading LOTF. I had a fan discussion with my teacher the other day and learned that her favorite character is Simon...so GOOOO SIMON! Yeah! But all my fanfiction procrastination paid off because I made straight A+'s for the term and achieved HIGHEST HONORS! Oh yeah! WHAT NOW! ALSO, I have my writer's convention this weekend...actually, I'm heading off to it today, and I'm extremely nervous. I'm sure I'll be fine, but you know how that goes...Still, I'm trying to find a literary agent to publish my book which I finished about a week ago (680 pages double spaced...Like a sir, thank you very much). Anyways, I don't own anything from LOTF, because if I did, I wouldn't be attending a writer's convention as a struggling author in dire need of an agent, now would I? Because I'd be William Golding, and I'd be rocking out with Charles Dickens and Mark Twain in Author Heaven to Wonderwall by Oasis. ENJOY:) **

MAURICE AWOKE in a room that was not his, snuggled deep in a bed that was not his either. There was a desk that was not his and a light blue lamp, then a girl of whom was pressed against his chest, their legs entangled like the ropes of a vine. She was warm against him, and delicate - ever so fragile cuddled into his bruised and beaten body. His skin still ached from where Jack's crew had beaten him senseless, and everything about the entire situation seemed surreal.

Slowly, Maurice gently unhooked Heather's arms from around his body and sat up, yawning. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake up. Seeing his belongings strewn across the floor, he moved to put them on, being extra careful not to wake the sleeping girl. He could hear her mother from downstairs talking on the phone to a relative, and was faintly reminded of his own mother, who was probably exploding in concern for her two boys. It would be alright. He would go home, explain the story that Jack had given him to his family, and move on. Easy as that, right?

Maurice glimpsed at himself in the mirror, and was displeased with what he saw.

A beaten, sad looking boy stared back at him, with dark green eyes and purple bruises. His thick auburn locks were matted with sweat from the night's events, and his bottom lip was still slightly swollen from where Jack had busted it. Gingerly, he touched it and winced back.

"Damn it," he cursed silently, then pulling his shirt of his head. He was about to leave with Heather stirred to consciousness.

"Maurice?" She muttered, her dark eyes fluttering open.

Maurice turned to look at his sleeping beauty.

"Hey," he replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He looked at her pitifully and patted her hand. "I gotta go."

Heather frowned. "Why? Is it Jack-"

"It's my family," Maurice answered quickly, staring down. "They'll be getting worried."

"Oh." She seemed disappointed, as if she expected Maurice to stay for longer.

He couldn't see how that was possible.

"So last night," he began, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

Heather nodded stiffly and sat up. "So last night..."

"We weren't thinking straight."

"Not at all."

After a moment of strenuous silence, Maurice sighed and muttered, "We shouldn't do that again."

Almost sickly, Heather agreed.

"Never," She whispered, her gaze flickering down.

"Be careful, alright?" Maurice murmured as he arose.

Heather nodded. "I will. You be careful too."

With that, the boy nodded an exited the same way he had entered, oblivious that through his descent, he had evoked more emotions within the fragile girl than death itself.

JOSHUA WAS COLD, cold and numb. Jack refused to give him any means of warmth, which included blankets or even a jacket. Instead the boy was left to moan on the ground. They gave him the dirty water from the lake and whatever food they had on them at the time, which mostly consisted of half eaten Snickers bars and a three-day old banana.

The twins had left long ago, as had Jack and few of the other boys. Lucas was keeping watch on him now with Christopher-they were two of the nicer boys, much gentler than Roger. He had heard them talking -Ralph's demise would begin tomorrow. They had laughed at Joshua and assured him that within the forty-eight hour period, he would have the company of Ralph and his sister, which only made Joshua's skin crawl. He didn't want to witness their deaths, let alone the terrible things that Jack had in store for the girl.

Joshua missed Maurice something terrible. The kid had made tons of mistakes, and to Joshua's dismay, had left him (forcibly) to rot in the cellar of Jack's savage creed. But Maurice hadn't known better. He was afraid, injured, threatened...

He sat there and thought for a while that if this was the end, what'd he miss out on. What _Derek_ was missing out on now, or Simon, or that other kid who had died on the island. They'd never have families of their own, never have a sweet faced wife or the joy of bouncing kids. Derek would never go to NYU and do whatever it was that he was going to do. He'd never have a stupid one night fling with one of those loosey-legs chicks at a college party with cheap beer and 90's grunge music. It was strange to think that maybe - _maybe_ - Joshua could join Derek in his eternal preservation. He may never have a wife or kids or go to college or have a fun with a chick from a party with cheap beer and grunge music. It was scary, but it was also true.

Joshua was afraid of dying.

JACK'S HANDS SHOOK and trembled as he sent his last and final text message to Hailee.

_We should hang out :* Meet me at Darlington Park by the lake at 4. A couple of guys from school are coming, so you can bring Ralph if you want. He'd probably have fun_.

He waited four long, tedious moments before his phone vibrated with a new message. Jack heart thumped hard in his chest as he quickly read it. It was from Hailee.

_ Sounds good! I can bring him, he probably needs to socialize a bit...he hasn't gone out with friends for weeks! Lmfao :P_

Jack chuckled darkly and shook his head, grinning at Hailee's ignorance. _He hasn't gone out with friends for weeks_! She hardly understood that this would be the last time either of them would go out with friends for a long while.

He glanced at the clock with mild interest and saw that it was 1 o'clock. He had three hours before he would make his attack on the Andrews siblings. Three brutally long hours - he should've been weary, but he had never felt more satisfied in his entire life.

FOR THE FIRST TIME in his life, Roger was terrified, haunted by dreams that never seemed to go away. They weren't about Piggy or Simon or even Derek - no, they were of something that made him feel all...funny inside, like there was a huge air bubble in his stomach that needed to pop. Roger was consistently dreaming of the strange girl he had met, and it was driving him mad. He had never had...those sorts of dreams before, the kind of dreams that made his heart swell and pulse race. He would wake up flushed and sweaty with a kind of elated feeling, a feeling he usually sought for in murder. When he was younger, Derek had told him that once he hit puberty, he'd start having dreams of naked girls and boobs and crap like that. But the odd thing, however, was that Roger's dream hardly focused on Heather's nude figure, but more on her cries and whimpers of pain as Roger stabbed her with the pointy end of her own high heeled shoe. He used her, and he screamed. Her fear was beautiful. It made him warm.

Roger wasn't sure what it was about Heather...perhaps it was the innocence that radiated off of her tan skin, or maybe the mere look of wisdom she held in her dark gaze. He didn't know; it remained mysterious, but there was something intriguing about Heather, and after all the dreams he had been having, Roger was pushed to find out.

Earlier that morning, Roger had discretely left his room and walked until he found the house he knew was hers. Stalking, some may call it. Roger preferred 'investigating'. There, he crouched and kneeled behind an oak tree, watching the house for any signs of life, signs of Heather. A cool breeze riddled its way through his black hair, and finally, at around 9 AM, a window from the second story opened, and steadily someone climbed out. With a cocked eyebrow, Roger watched, interested at this suspicious ploy. It was only when the skilled climber finally touched his feet to the ground and turned to walk away did Roger's heart stop.

Maurice. Maurice fucking Carters.

What the hell was _he_ doing at Heather's house, and in what Roger assumed to be, Heather's room? Maurice's hair was mussed and matted with sweat. The clothes on his back looked as if they had been hastily thrown on, and he was still doing up his belt. At that moment, the breath was knocked from Roger yet again. Maurice and..._Heather_...had been...?

It didn't make sense. How did they even know each other? Roger was terribly confused and more than infuriated at the boy he so longed to be dead. Fuck Maurice. Fuck Heather. Fuck all of it. Roger was sick and tired of watching everyone around him live happily, while he swam and wadded in the blood of his victims. He wanted Maurice to pay. He wanted Heather to pay, even though he hardly knew her and understood that she was barely at fault for his angry emotions, but still...

Now, Roger sat in his room, listening as his parents argued down stairs. They were fighting over Derek yet again, and he thought he heard his father ask for a divorce. Roger hardly cared. He was too busy trying to calm the beast within him.

They were supposed to capture Hailee and Ralph at four. It was two-thirty now. Roger only hoped that Jack would allow him one last favor before their ex-chief's final demise.

Roger wanted Heather to himself, and he wanted Maurice gone. _He_ wanted to kill Maurice. And he wanted to do it in front of Ralph, just for fun. Even at the thought, Roger couldn't grin. He just _couldn't_.

His heart was blackened more than the dark strands of his ebony hair.

**Kind of...weird chapter. It took me about three weeks to write because my good ol' pal named Writer's Block decided to give me a visit. Oh well. I kicked him out now and I'm already feeling better, but I feel like this chapter is a wee bit choppy. Ehh. It's not that important anyway. Thanks for sticking through even though I've been a horrible updater lately. I really appreciate all of your reviews :) Next time, I'll promise to update sooner! Thank you everybody! Oh...wish me luck at the writer's convention! GONNA TRY TO GET A LITERARY AGENT! I'm really nervous -_-. Lol! THANK YOUUUUU!**


	16. Still My Guitar Gently Weeps

**Hello (: I can't say much, just that the conference went REALLY well...better than I ever could have hoped! :D Now I have lots more leisure time to finish this fanfiction. I have an idea for another LOTF which I'm eager to begin, so I'm going to start wrapping this one up...kind of. Maybe. I'll try my best. Just...just try to trust me.**

** Well, I GUESS I don't own anybody except the OC's, even though that'd be AWESOME. Then again, if I did, why would I be writing a fanfiction? Why do I even bother with a disclaimer? Obviously my name isn't William Golding...or is it? Hmm:) Alright, here you go!**

"WHY DO I HAVE TO GO?" RALPH asked Hailee impatiently, watching as his older sister finished curling her delicate blonde hair into perfectly pretty curls.

Hailee snorted. "Because you'll have fun, dumbass. You need to hang out with friends, and I have feeling you and Jack will end up getting along great."

_Right_, Ralph thought, averting his gaze so she wouldn't see him roll his dark blue eyes. _We'd get along GREAT_. Just like they had on island. Great.

"Besides," Hailee continued, switching off the curling iron and looking her at her brother. "Mom is insisting that you go to _supervise_, which I think is ridiculous. I'm not a slut. She should know that."

"I liked Chase better than Jack."

"I liked the old Ralph better than you."

Ralph shut up at that because quite honestly, he hadn't any idea what to say. He knew it hurt Hailee to see him like this - quiet, reclusive, wary - but he didn't know how else to act, especially with Jack back in the picture.

It was only a few more minutes before the siblings were heading out the door, waving goodbye to their mother and ignoring her calls for curfew. If only had they known it may have been the last time either of them ever heard their mother's sweet voice again.

They headed down to the park, following the crooked sidewalk and keeping silent. Ralph stared apprehensively at his sister's outfit - a pair of tiny shorts and a little itty bitty shirt that exaggerated her thin frame and each of her curves. It made him sick to think that Jack had his hands all over his sister's body.

When they finally reached the park, they were both unsurprised to find it eerily empty and quiet, the playground creaking on its old structure in the sway of the breeze.

"Jack said they'd be down by the lake," Hailee told Ralph, gesturing to a little pathway that led beyond the trees and towards the silky shoreline of the water.

Ralph nodded and sighed in reluctance. "Alright."

They meandered down the path, taking no notice of the leaves and sticks that crunched and cracked under the weight of their feet. From somewhere above them, a blackbird sung a soft tune, piercing through the silent ear and awakening Ralph's senses. He suddenly felt alive, as if many secrets had been shared over the pathway he now walked. As if love had blossomed and hate had festered. It was a new feeling, a strange one at that, but his revelation was cut short by the sound of Jack's voice.

"Baby!"

Ralph's stomach churned. _Baby_? He called Hailee _baby_ now?

Hailee's reaction was just as nauseating as Jack's fervent greeting.

"Jack!" She ran into his open arms, laughing when he lifted her up and swung her around, all the while her head was tucked between the crook of his neck and shoulder. Ralph wanted to vomit. It was sickening to watch them bump noses and giggle gaily. However, Ralph's worries only escalated when he noticed the boy circling the perimeter.

He noticed Maurice first, because quite frankly, Maurice was the most likable out of all them, and also, he looked pretty beat up. There was a purplish green bruise beneath his eye, and his hair was matted with blood and sweat. He looked somewhat out of it, as if he wasn't really there, and to Ralph's brief surprise, he felt bad for him. After all, the poor kid was always getting pushed around by Jack and Roger.

Roger. That's who Ralph saw next. Roger, being the sadistic creep that he was, was lurking behind Ralph. Ralph only noticed him in the first place because he made the mistake of stepping on a stick and creating a cracking noise. He looked mostly the same, except now a hungry fire burned beneath his dark gaze.

There were others; tall, strapping young Bill, suave but skinny Lucas, and finally (and probably the most heart wrenching), the twins. Both of them. Timidly approaching Ralph. With spears.

Actually, they all had spears.

Hailee was too busy sucking Jack's face off to notice what Ralph had seen, but Ralph wasn't about to give up again. This _wasn't_ the island. Jack couldn't make an attack here. This was home, society, civilization...

Yet even in civilization, the beast flourished.

Ralph screamed, because he had no idea what else to do. He screamed for the police. He screamed for his parents. He screamed for Simon and Piggy and Hailee who had now turned to look at him. At first she seemed aggravated, as if Ralph was doing her some great injustice by shrieking, but then she saw the spears and the boys, all closing in on the trio. She glanced from each bulky figure and then to Jack.

"Jack," She whispered. "What...what's going on?"

"I told you I'm your chief," Jack replied, dismissing the girl. "You'll do as I say."

"I thought that was a _joke_!"

"Then I suppose that's your fault, honey."

"Jack!"

But there was practically nothing left that they could do. The savages around them were armed, and as much as Hailee and Ralph struggled against their brute force, they ended up being tied up and lugged through forest - _dragged _through the forest.

Hailee wanted to die. They drug her by her feet, laughing when she sobbed and cried. She couldn't understand it. Why would Jack do such a terrible thing? It hardly made any sense.

Ralph, however, didn't limply fall down like his sister. He bit and tore and fought with every nerve he had, even when he was tied up and dragged along the forest floor. It all happened so fast, like a cursory glance to a humdrum book. His world spinning back forth between consciousness and surreality, blurring his vision and halting his screams. The oak trees above him swayed back and forth to palms and back to oak, and the dried, crumbling pine needles beneath him had begun to feel sand. He thought he could hear a familiar chant, but was drug back to reality by his sister's scream. Not long after, however, the forest faded back into a glimmering night with bright, shining stars. Simon was floating off into the water, and Ralph was staring as maggots leaked from his very being - under his nails, through the tears in his eyes, out of the coughs that plagued him. And then, everything was black.

JACK WATCHED IN DELIGHT AS he roused Ralph back into consciousness. The blonde haired boy had fainted somewhere along the journey to the cabin, but never mind that now, for Jack had him secured in the shelter with Joshua and Hailee, both of whom wouldn't stop screaming. Maurice had to wait outside because he wasn't allowed to see Joshua, so Jack was down one man. But none of that mattered. His plan had already worked, and besides, he had Roger poised with a spear, and quite frankly, that was all it would take to shut Ralph up when he awoke.

It was a glorious moment when those blue eyes finally fluttered open.

Jack waited...and waited as Ralph eyes widened and then constricted back to pinpoints, his mouth agape at his long lost foe.

"Ho...how did I...where am I..._Jack!_"

"Hello, Ralph," Jack purred pulling up a chair and purposely landing the leg on Ralph's toes. The boy shrieked, and Jack grinned. "Miss me? Oh, that's right. I saw you only a few days ago. Remember? Back with you sister at your house? When we talked about Meygan?"

Ralph scowled. "I remember, douchebag."

"Harsh words, buddy." A gay chuckle escape Jack as he peered at his enemy. "Maybe it's time to tell Hailee the truth, huh? I mean, now that you're both eventually inevitably going to die, we might as well fess up now."

A few boys snickered from behind their chief, but Ralph only stared downwards. He couldn't look at his sister. She'd hate him for keeping such a huge secret away from her, but he _had_ to do it...it had been necessary at the time, hadn't it?

"Well, go on, Ralph. The story's not gonna tell itself. She's right over there."

When Ralph refused to look up, Jack snapped his fingers and Roger roughly took the blonde boy by the chin and forced him to gaze at his equally embarrassed sister. Hailee sat tied up beside Joshua, her blue eyes swollen with tears and pain. Jack laughed and turned to the girl.

"C'mon, Hailee! Don't you wanna know the _true_ story about your little brother?"

"Shut up."

"Oh, she's fiesty, ain't she! If Ralphie won't tell you, I guess I will. I suppose we should start from the beginning."

Hailee glared. "Go to hell."

"We started off being friends on the island, even when he was elected chief over me, even though I was far more qualified for the job."

"That's right," Bill agreed, nodding. "_Way_ better at it, too."

"He let me have my choir boys and we became hunters..._savages_, in Blondie's eyes."

"So?" Hailee spat. "Does that give you the right to _murder_?"

"Yes," Jack grinned. "Yes, yes it does. Eventually, while he was all caught up in keeping a fucking fire going, we were having fun, killing pigs and having fights. As a result, the tribe split. He took on the losers, and I got the real warriors and was elected chief of my _own_ tribe. One night, we had a feast, and your brother attended. Wanna know what happened? It sure was fun."

"I don't fucking care," Hailee snapped, looking away. But Jack didn't want that. No...he wanted her to have to look at Ralph when he told her _this_.

"You should," Jack replied, reaching out and forcibly grabbing her face. He turned it towards Ralph and smiled. "There a was a boy...Simon. He stumbled into our circle. We thought he was the beast, so we killed him. We stabbed him. _Ralph_ stabbed him."

Hailee stared at Ralph with wide, blue eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks. Ralph grimaced back, wanting nothing more than to fade away against the dark pallet of greys and blacks.

Jack continued in a coy manner. "Events passed, and Roger finally killed Ralph's last BFF - Piggy, the fatso. Smashed him with a boulder. It was great."

Sobs escaped Hailee through convulsions.

"I ca...can't believe I let you...you _kiss_ me," She stuttered.

Jack softly shushed her and turned her head towards his, tilting it ever so gently.

"Ralph should've died on that island, but he didn't. He's the only thing keeping us from being savages, and I will do whatever it takes to break him. To _break _him. You understand?"

Hailee's silence unnerved him, and with the flick of his wrist, his decision was final.

"Hold Ralph there. I want him to see this."

Then, ignoring Hailee's final screams, Jack leaned in and plastered his lips upon hers, forcing his tongue between her pursed seal.

It was all too perfect.

**Yeah, short chapter, but I'm having major writer's block again and I'm at that 'ehh' stage with this fic. Gotta wind it up soon before I lose interest completely...Lol. Also, about that last scene...put two and two together and it'll make sense. Anyway, on to a happier topic, what do you guys think I should write next?I have one definite idea, but I kind of want to attempt a girl on the island fic. I REAALLLY want to avoid writing a Mary-Sue. If you want, you can leave what qualities YOU would like to see in a female character (that aren't Mary-Sueish). Then I can write a fic that isn't as boring and tedious as the other girl-on-the-island stories. But that'll come later. First I gotta finish this one up. Also, if you want to see anything else in this (slash, death, pairings...) just tell me and I'll try to fit in. You can either PM me or leave it a review. Speaking of reviews...THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING! Yay! Alright, I'm out! PEACE XX**


	17. Nowhere Man

**Hey! It's been forever, so I won't keep you long. It's been crazy with school and everything. Anyways, I'll get straight to the disclaimer:**

** I do not own anything whatsoever, except the OC's, because I'm cool.**

**There. Okay. Enjoy! **

JOSHUA TRIED HIS BEST TO comfort the sobbing, bruised girl, but nothing was of use. Jack had left nearly an hour ago with most of the group, save Bill and Tyler, who sat propped up against the door. They made no act to help the blonde haired girl, only stared with curious satisfaction. All of Jack's cronies had watched in amusement as he used the poor girl, a sick sense of pleasure burning in their fiery gazes. It made Joshua sick at the stomach. He didn't even know her name, but he recognized that she was completely crushed, and her brother wasn't much better. Jack, at the very last minute, decided to spare Ralph of any torturous punishments today on account that the girl's humiliation had been enough.

There was blood - blood and bruises, and no matter how much Joshua tried to soothe the hysterical girl, his efforts were fruitless. Her brother sat facing towards the wall, completely still and unmoving, his expression cold and hard. He had witnessed the unthinkable, the _unimaginable_, yet he still sat there stoically, trying his best to retain his tears. Joshua felt pity for them both, and an undesirably explosive pent of anger washed through his anguished mind. Jack...that lowdown douchebag. He was...he was...

He was truly a monster, and Joshua wanted him to pay.

Joshua recognized that Ralph only had a little while before Jack would grow tired of torturing him and would move in for the kill. The girl was worse off, because Jack had already taken what he had wanted from her. It was all a matter of time now, a bomb perilously ticking down to the end. But even with this short amount of time, Joshua knew that he could make a difference, that perhaps he could help one of the siblings in living. And at that moment, his pity fell upon the girl.

ROGER STALKED HIS PREY FROM behind the over-watered hedges that cornered the perimeter. She was outside on the veranda, sitting in the shade with a book enclosed gently in her hands. The sun slanted at such a direction that it darkened her already tanned skin and created a gloomy feeling about the entire thing. Roger watched like a lion intent on its prey, tensing at the breeze bristling through his dark hair. It was longer now, reaching the nape of his neck. His mother insisted on cutting it back, but Roger fervently truly disliked his mother. More so now that she was leaving his father.

His attention was redirected back to the girl when she abruptly arose and wandered down the sharp curve of the veranda and towards the anterior of the yard. The grass glistened with the sweet glaze of the summer sun, and something embedded in the soft flesh of the ground intrigued the girl till she knelt down to investigate further.

Roger watched, his breath caught in his throat, as she tilted her head and passed her tongue across her dry lips. His heart throbbed in rhythm with the beat of the grazing summer insects, quieting only when a small smile escaped upon her mouth. Pressed delicately in her palm was an intricate little flower, its vibrant petals folding and creasing in a sweet little pattern. Unconsciously, Roger found himself moving closer, moving away from the hiding spot that once guarded him from accusing eyes. He was silent, silent as a cat, and stealthy too. His footsteps were surprisingly silent and sturdy on the firm ground of her driveway, and even once he was nearly breathing down her neck, the girl hardly noticed. Looking down on her like that, staring at the dark tan of her neck and black of her hair reminded Roger faintly of someone, someone he once knew yet hardly really knew at all. He stood there behind her, waiting for the girl to jump in revulsion at his act, but still she didn't was rapt in the flower and the summer heat that bathed down upon her. Roger was interested by her unassuming notion, and carefully - _carefully - _he reached out to brush and single finger down the middle of her neck.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

Heather felt the boy's touch almost immediately, and just as quickly, she froze. Her blood ran cold; the dark strand of hair which she had instinctively gone to move behind her ear still loomed aimlessly into her eyes. She dared not to move, not to breathe and went she felt the hot breath of her captor along the sensitive flesh of her neck, a dark shiver recoiled throughout her. Her captor grinned.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

Roger watched in a perverted pleasure as the girl below him turned cold at his touched. He was crouching down behind her now, as if to give her a hug, and was breathing down on her neck. His lips were just a touch away from her heated skin, so close that literally a breath would unite them. She was shivering under his hard grasp, and carefully, ever so gently, he leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder so that he could breathe whispers in her ear.

"Remember me?" He murmured, purposely tightening his grip on the girl. She shuddered.

"No." She paused for a moment to try and catch a glimpse of her captor but failed miserably. He had her in such a lock that she could hardly turn her head. "Who are you?"

**(randompagebreakhere)**

Heather was panicking. The body pressed against her was warm and strong. The fingers that curled possessively around her arms pierced into her flesh and undoubtedly would leave purple bruises. The voice sounded familiar, no matter how distant, and the lips that breathed against her ear were mocking and pleased. Whoever it was, he liked what he was doing. He liked seeing her tremble in fear. He liked the little exasperated sighs that escaped her every time he shifted his position.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

Her discontent was evident. The wonderful throbbing sensations within Roger had not yet come to a standstill, and he was vaguely reminded of his many dreams. Intrigued and inspired, he reached up with one rough hand and forced her head to turn towards his. He could tell it pained her, for she gave a quiet shriek and bit her lip till it bled - only strengthening Roger's ecstasy. The sight of the crimson liquid leaking from her mouth threw him into a course of euphoria, and what he did next surprised neither one of them.

Roger leaned in and pressed his lips upon hers, savoring the metallic flavor of blood and indulging in the way she tried to paw him away.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

He was kissing her. _He was kissing her_! Worst of all, now that she could look at him, stare into those dangerously dark eyes and touch his eager expression, she recognized him. He none other but the strange boy who had followed her the other day, the one who had watched in interest as she fumbled to carry her books. His name was Roger, and that was all she could recall before he was forcing his tongue through her stubbornly pursed lips and her thoughts were once again ripped away.

She didn't want to kiss him, but he wasn't taking no for an answer.

Heather tasted her own blood on his lips, felt the coppery liquid slide through the seal of their mouths. It was nauseating, disgusting even, and with ever movement of their melded embrace she felt her own heart crumbling. What would Maurice say? Hell, what her _mother_ say? She was defenseless against this dark creature. Completely and utterly vulnerable.

** (randompagebreakhere)**

Inspired by Jack's example with Hailee, Roger pursued his prey further. He slipped one crude hand up her silken shirt and palmed her breast, which was still covered by the (in Roger's words, quite redundant) material of her bra. Roger was feeling something greater than elation, stronger than happiness, and better than a mere sadistic pleasure. She was crying now; tears rolled down the majority of her face, and with a cruel smile, Roger pulled away from her bloody lips and licked away the salty matter, laughing again when she only sobbed more. There was nothing she could do to stop him. He was the hunter, and she was the prey.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

"Please stop."

That was all Heather could manage to say. When Roger ignored her, she pleaded again.

"Please - _please_ don't-"

Again, her pleas were neglected, and Roger continued his exploration of the unknown, and presently slipped another hand up her shirt. She tried to fight him off, but it only earned her a hard slap on the face and more sobs, she she eventually just shut-up and tried to imagine that Maurice would somehow come to her house and see this vulgar boy, then would continue to beat the shit out of him. It wasn't a calming thought, because deep inside she knew Maurice wouldn't come back. He was too far in with Jack.

But then something happened. Roger stopped, stopped all of it. His lips left hers and his hands found their place at his sides, but it wasn't because of Maurice or anybody else. Roger had done it all his own, and now looked at her with a hungry possession. He spotted a faint bruise on the side of her neck where he knew Maurice's lips had once been, and full of hatred and possession, and reached out to her one last time and tilted her head, then harshly biting the bruise and sucking until he made his own mark.

With that, he pulled away from the distraught and scared girl, stood up, and brushed his clothes down.

"You're mine now," he said down to her, glaring.

Heather looked up between sobs and shook her head. "N...no..."

"You're not allowed to tell anyone about this," he demanded again.

Heather nodded weakly and wept.

Again, Roger repeated, "You're mine. Say it."

The girl was reluctant, so Roger raised his fist as if to hit her and watched as she broke and complied.

"Yours," she whispered, cowering back.

Roger grinned. "That's right."

They both left feeling strangely different.

SAM AND ERIC BOTH returned to the little shack where Ralph was imprisoned, keen on showing him some signs of comfort. They had voluntarily left Amy behind this time; Jack's actions were becoming far too vulgar for the little girl to witness. They knew that Jack was back at his house with his parents - he had said he some dinner or something to go to. Roger was off buzzing around, probably tormenting some little kid. Neither of the twins were quite sure what Roger did when he buzzed off, but they couldn't imagine it was of good intentions, so they preferred not to think about.

Jack had told Sam that Bill and Tyler were on 'prisoner duty' for the day. Apart from being savagely wild pals of Jack, Bill and Tyler were actually okay - out of all the savages, they were the nicest. Back on the island, when Roger had beaten both the twins to bloody pieces of flesh, it was Bill and Tyler who had attempted to bandage their wounds. They were genuinely nice guys, just caught up in a game that had taken a terribly wrong turn for the worst. Nevertheless, the twins knew that the boys would allow them to see Ralph. And in that way, they were good.

They approached the little house with a sort of confident finality. Bill was waiting outside the door, which would mean that Tyler would be inside. When he saw the twins walk up, he grinned and held out his arms.

"Sam! Eric! What's up?"

"I thought Jack made you rehearse a welcoming speech for visitors," Eric muttered with bitter sarcasm, taking Bill's hand into a firm handshake. Bill blushed and cleared his throat.

"What? You mean that whole, '_Halt, who goes there'_ crap? Nah, I know you guys. No need for that. Whaddya need, boys?"

Sam glanced at Eric for guidance, who (like always) presently began to speak.

"We're here to see Ralph," Eric began, watching as Bill's expression flitted with suspicion.

Sam continued, "We just want to say hi, you know, after what happened..."

"To Hailee-"

"It was just pretty-"

"-bad. And we want to-"

"-just make him feel a little better-"

"-you know?"

Bill nodded gruffly. "I know. But Jack said that I'm not allowed to let Maurice in to see Joshua or you guys in to see Ralph."

"Yes," Sam huffed. "But this is important-"

"-if we can't see him-"

"-could you at least tell us-"

"-how he's doing?"

"He's fine." Bills shrugged, then laughing. "I mean, as fine as anybody can be after seeing their sister get raped."

His words burned through the twins. Maddened, Eric snapped, "Don't you feel bad for him?"

Bill thought for a moment. "I suppose. But he deserves it."

"He never did anything!" Sam sputtered.

"He weakened our tribe," Bill replied firmly, standing tall against the door. "And now he's gonna pay."

"Where's Tyler?"

"Inside." Bill gestured to the door with his sharpened spear.

"Is Ralph's sister okay?"

"What do you think?" Bill was grinning again, and with the slight tip of his head, he laughed. "Tyler 'n I were talking to chief earlier, 'bout what he did. I mean, you have to admit, despite Ralph's general annoyingness, his sister is pretty damn fine."

The twins only stared, aghast at Bill's words.

Bill casually went on. "We asked Chief...you know...if we could have a little slice of that pretty little thing, and he said probably, if we did all our jobs right. Mmm. She sure is cute."

"Even when she's covered in bruises and blood? Even when she's sobbing-"

"-because she's been used in front of her own _brother_?"

"You guys take this shit way too seriously," Bill cackled, his eyes suddenly as dark as Roger's. "Matter of fact, you better get going. Jack's coming back soon for his nightly check-up, and then Lucas and Will are switching with Tyler 'n I. I don't think Chief would be pleased to know that you came here without his permission."

"Without his permission?" Sam sputtered.

Eric tagged on. "But he forced us into the tribe!"

"Dunno then." Bill shrugged. "But you should go."

"Bill!"

"Please-"

"We just want to-"

"_Go_." Bill's eyes, although hazel in color, had morphed into a murky black, something that was common now amongst the savage boys. "Now."

With equally shaken sighs, the twins huffed and turned away, distributing curses among each other directed at Bill and Jack and all of them.

Life sucked in general for everyone, they theorized.

**Sucks to be any of my characters, since they all have it pretty bad. Except Bill. He's just chilling. Okay, so leave a review, tell me what you think (c'mon, don't hold back) and please forgive me for being a horrible updater. I know. I suck. Also, thanks for all the advice on a girl on the island fic! It really helped! Hopefully I can start drafting for it! Thank you for all the reviews and support and hanging in through my rambling and sometimes weird notes. It's all very much appreciated! Alright, I'm peacing out. BYE! XX**

** OH- We had a vote in class the other day at who would be who in LOTF (we're reading the book), and everyone voted me to be Ralph. So yay, I would initially be chief and then be hunted by my friends if I had been in LOTF. Wooooooo. It's k. My best friend was chosen as Jack. Awk. Lol. Okay for realz. BYEE! XX**


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